


Demons Below

by new_groovee



Series: The Seven [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Apocalypse, Biblical References, Captivity, Demon Hunters, Demons, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Four Horsemen, Gen, Kenma has no manners, M/M, Monsters, Nephilim, Seven Deadly Sins, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, but its not his fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:05:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/new_groovee/pseuds/new_groovee
Summary: "She was Wrath and she brought destruction wherever she went."---To prevent an upcoming apocalypse, seven young Hunters-in-training must work together with one of their nation's biggest secrets. Together they will fight demons, break curses, and learn how to accept their pasts, so they can deal with their future. With a little sweat and blood, they just might be able to accomplish something beyond themselves.





	1. Arsonist's Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I put Biblical References in the tags, but you honestly don't need to know much about the Bible to understand this. It's just because there are some parts influenced by it and its take on demons, angels, and nephilim. Nor is this a religion focused fic. If that makes any sense?  
> I was actually looking forward to posting this and I hope you all are as eager as I am!  
> Anyways, enjoy!  
> Listen to the music to get a better feel on the fic. Finding the correct songs to go with each chapter probably took up most of my time.

_When I was a child I'd sit for hours_

_Staring into open flames_

_Something in it had a power_

_Could barely tear my eyes away_

_-Hozier_

                Pestilence. That’s exactly what this was. He had seen his fair share of disease and infection, but nothing on this scale. This wasn’t a common outbreak where he is often sent out as an aid in quelling natural forces. No, this was something much grander and much darker. The second Oikawa had ridden into this village he knew that this wouldn’t end the same way it usually did. This village was dying, at a rapid rate, and even with his Gift of Charity he could not stop it.

                He was sent out by the Church along with ten other students to yet another village that was hit by a strange disease. In the beginning, they did not know where it originated from, but after the many months of grueling work, he was certain. This was demonic. It was similar to septicemia, but from the blackened veins he found on corpses told him that this was not a normal disease. Pestilence would enter the body and corrode it from the inside, leaving only an empty shell and no soul to pass on to the other realms.

                He grits his teeth together when yet another person died before him. The Pestilence had spent too much time in the person’s system and even with his powers he was just prolonging the inevitable. Since he had come to the village, they had not saved even one person who was infected. Their time was spent by bedsides, hands covered in corroded blood and shoulders sagging from fatigue. No amount of purifying would rid these villagers of the Pestilence.

                “Oikawa,” someone says his name gently. He doesn’t even turn his head from the corpse. How many people has he not been able to save since he came here? Too many. He was supposed to be better than this. What was all his training for if he couldn’t cure not one person? “Oikawa.”

                “What is it?” he says, picking his head up to stare at the tent walls. He was in no mood to be bothered, just wanted to move onto the next person and try again to do what he has failed to do all this time.

                “The Church has responded by sending reinforcements. Their scout has just arrived and they will be here shortly.”

                Oikawa scoffs. “Alright, prepare a place for them and I will be there after I finish up here.”

                Since he has been here, he sent numerous letters back home. Updating the Church on the status of his mission. Detailing his thoughts that they were dealing with a form of Pestilence and that they have yet to find a way to cure it. The Church was probably getting as desperate as he was. They were supposed to protect the people, but all they’ve been able to do is relocate whole villages in order to suppress the spread of the disease. Although it would still appear in other villages no matter what measures were taken against it. They were fighting a losing battle and they knew it.

                He leaned back on his heels and ran a hand over his face. There was no time to wallow in self-pity. The Church had put him in charge of this mission and he was as the highest-ranking Hunter-in-training for his Gift here. There were things he still needed to do before the night was over. He got up on his feet and left the tent, instructing someone to take the body to the fire pit and sanitize the area. People were sick and they needed as many beds as possible to treat them.

                The reinforcements hadn’t arrived by the time he made it to the tent they used as a makeshift control center and sleeping quarters for the students. There wasn’t much time for rest, and everyone has been running on fumes, barely being able to eat or even make sure that they were taking their own preventive measures to stay healthy. Oikawa cleared the desk in the center of the front area. He was setting up the map by the time the flaps were pulled open and a group of clothed figures came in. The two cloaked in the front took a step towards Oikawa and he instantly started to brighten up.

                “Tetsu-chan, Refreshing-kun,” he said, coming around the table to wrap an arm around both of their necks. He squeezed hard before pulling back. He watched as they removed their cloaks and Kuroo ran a hand through his unruly hair, already grinning hard at him.

                “You look like hell, Tooru,” he pointed out.

                Tooru crossed his arms over his chest and blew a breath to sweep his bangs back in place.

                “Ah, hey now, at least you still managed to keep your hair in place,” Suga declared. His smile was easy as he inspected Tooru. “Well, you can rest now. We’ve been sent, as well as five men from our own Gift, so just tell us what we need to do.”

                “What has the Church told you so far?” Oikawa questioned, leading them to circle around the table he prepared. He exchanged small greetings with the rest of their group before looking up at Suga and Kuroo.

                “Just that this village is starting to look much like the other ones,” Suga admits.

                “From your letters, it seems like it is Pestilence. At least that was what I was able to infer from the Book of Knowledge. Black veins, coughing up blood, soulless corpses, it’s textbook Pestilence. Although we haven’t seen it in decades. I’ve brought information on how to treat some of the symptoms.”

                Oikawa sighs. “I figured it was Pestilence, but knowing it doesn’t make me feel any better. What did you bring?”

                “I was able to get my hands on some strong herbs that should reduce a majority of the less demonic symptoms. Hopefully what I was able to bring should be enough.”

                “If me and Oikawa link during spells we might be able to extend its healing properties,” Suga offers.

                “I can also dilute the herbs a bit. My healing capabilities aren’t as good as you two, but if we link, you should just be able to use my spiritual energy instead.”

                Oikawa nodded, listening to his two friends offer up ideas. Linking gave Hunters the abilities to share similar powers, and can even be used to magnify a certain power or a spell. He wasn’t able to link with anyone due to linking being a harder ability and taught to the higher-level students. There were certain requirements needed for a student to be able to link with another person. They had to have enough spiritual energy, have at least two Fruits of Divinity, as well as a corresponding Fruit with the person they wanted to link to. Fruits were only acquired through determination and experience as you become stronger and were the force used by Hunters. By gaining a Fruit a Hunter becomes capable of serving their Gift and practicing higher level spells.

                “That might work,” Oikawa concludes after thinking it over a bit. “Kuroo, I need you to teach the students that aren’t busy right now how to use the herbs and what spells work best with it. Me and Suga will go right away to help. I hope that’s alright with you two. I know you just got here.”

                Kuroo grins and instructs his men to follow him. “Don’t worry, we came here to be put to work.”

                Oikawa watches Kuroo and his five men disappear to another corner of the room and then turns to Suga. He had his cloak pulled back up and the five men behind him looked eager to get started.

                “It’s messy work,” Oikawa admits to them. “There are proper procedures you need to take in order to prevent your own sickness. I prepared a set of supplies for each of you. You may need to change your clothes.”

                The five men nod affirmatives before changing into the protection gear.

                “Tell me the truth,” Suga says, leaning close to Oikawa to avoid being overheard. “How bad is it?”

                Oikawa gives him a tight smile. “Nothing I can’t handle, Refreshing-kun.”

                Suga sighs and shakes his head. “You do know that my Gift is Prudence, right? You can’t lie to me that easily.”

                “Watch me,” Oikawa beams before turning around and clapping his hands together. “Alright, let’s head out!”

 

* * *

 

 

                Kuroo’s hands were stained blue from the herbs he had been working with all night long. It felt like he spent hours just sitting in the tent, preparing batches of herbs and scrolls for spells while his friends were the ones knee deep in all of it. He cursed his own limitations on his healing abilities. When Oikawa and Suga returned exhausted and dirty, he was informed that his efforts were not in vain. With the herbs and the spells, they were able to prolong the lives of many of the villagers for a couple more days.

                That was a good thing, but he wouldn’t lose to them just yet. While the students who had worked through the night, slept silently around him, Kuroo spent the early hours of the morning altering his scrolls. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his back did he look up into chocolate brown eyes. He was greeted with a steaming cup of what he could smell was coffee and gratefully took it with both hands.

                “Didn’t you just go to sleep?” he asked over the rim of his cup.

                Oikawa had his own in his hands and simply shrugged. “I don’t see you lying down your head either, Tetsu-chan.”

                “I can’t sleep just yet.”

                “Don’t work yourself into exhaustion. You ending up on a cot won’t help anyone.”

                He sighs and leans back to look up at the roof of the tent. “I know. I just have a bad feeling about all of this.”

                “Yeah, well the odds are pretty stacked against us,” Oikawa mumbles.

                Kuroo shakes his head. “No, I’m talking about on the bigger scale.” Oikawa hums next to him and he’s silent for a second before elaborating. “Nekomata has been more secretive lately. Well, technically all of the Elders have been acting a bit nervous. But whenever I see him he’s always rushing off with the Book of Knowledge.”

                “Maybe they just want to end this as soon as possible,” Oikawa muses.

                “Or before it turns into something worse,” Kuroo says under his breathe.

                Oikawa tilts his head and eyes him closely. “What do you have going on in that head of yours?”

                “Pestilence,” Kuroo states, “an epidemic of demonic disease. Can be expressed through a multitude of forms, but ultimately a key identifier are the black veins and soulless corpses. It’s demonic power strong enough to corrode a soul to the point that there’s nothing left, but where does it go then?”

                “Who knows?” Oikawa sighs, drowning the rest of his coffee in one go. “We can ask when we’re dead, but for the time being, since we both seem to not need sleep to stay alive, why don’t you become my battery for the morning?”

                Kuroo grins and finishes off his coffee. “You know I always love being the battery pack.”

                “Good, because you have the large amounts of spiritual energy needed just for the job.”

                Oikawa stands to gather his things. Kuroo sighs one last time before putting his scrolls away. He made enough last night that they wouldn’t need any more for a while, and the herbs are to be administered every two days to prevent a tolerance build up. He quickly grabs a bottle of grey liquid before finding Oikawa outside.

                The village was quiet in the morning. If that was due to the early time or the fact that more than half the population had already died, Kuroo didn’t know. Oikawa stood with his back towards Kuroo, looking out from the small hill out towards the village.

                “Here,” he says, handing over the bottle to Oikawa. “If you’re that low on spiritual energy then use this to feel a bit invigorated until you can naturally build some back up.”

                “This is expensive stuff, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa says, turning the bottle in his hands.

                “Don’t worry about it. Perks of having the Gift of Knowledge, we make our own stuff.”

                “Then don’t mind if I do,” he says before opening the bottle and drowning it with a purse of his lips. Kuroo grins, knowing full well how disgusting the potion tasted. It was viscous as well and if you didn’t have enough courage to swallow it in one go, you could end up throwing it back up.

                “Alright,” Kuroo says, clapping Oikawa on the back and making his way down the hill.

 

* * *

 

 

                The air around him buzzed. He could feel it moving as if it were a living thing; slithering, twisting, attempting to fill every spot it could occupy. He tucked his head into his knees and wrapped his wings around himself. If he just let the time pass, then it would go away. It always did. He didn’t know how long he sat like that for, but he had dozed off. When he awoke, the feeling was gone and the sun was rising. He didn’t know how he knew the sun rose, but he always knew when the night was over.

                He stretched out his wings, letting them flutter in the traces of sunlight that filtered through. In the morning sun the gold from the shaft of his feathers was more visible. Those too felt like living things to him. Sometimes if he was lucky he could see them shift slightly underneath his black feathers, but whenever he tried to focus on it, they would become still.

                It was as if his own body was playing tricks on him. He would see it in his eyes in the mirror, sometimes his gold irises would move as if they were molten lava, but when he went to glance again they were still, stagnant things. He could feel the designs in his horn move as the day turns into night when he lie awake at night. There were many things Kenma could feel and many things he couldn’t.

                He could feel the movement of the people he never met, floors above him, as the day progressed. The rustling of the trees and the ground as it vibrates from the hooves of horses. Far away there was a slow steady stream in a forest that animals would occasionally come to rest at. Even further away was a small village at the top of the hill. Kenma could feel all those things if he concentrated hard enough, but he hardly ever did unless he was prompted to by the men who he has come to know through a sheet of thick, heavily warded glass.

                Kenma stood up and stretched fully, letting his arms and wings extend before resting back in place. He went over to the closet and pulled out clothes provided for him. They were simple indigo _samue_ with special slits on the back for him to slip his wings into. They were comfortable enough and he didn’t mind repeating outfits. He slid into his socks and sandals. The last thing he grabbed was a red _happi_ with the Church’s crest on the back of it. This wasn’t altered to suit his wings, but they were visible from the bottom of the hem, the very tips of them going just below his knee.

                There was a knock on his door and he turned in time to see a guard opening it.

                “Turn around,” he was instructed. He did so without any complaints, too accustomed to being manhandled and placed into cuffs that were engraved with wards. He felt the cuff’s weight on his ankles and spun so they could place cuffs on his hands in front of him. He was told that these cuffs suppressed his power so he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.

                He followed silently behind the guard to the meeting space he spent most of his life growing up in.

                “Go in,” he was instructed.

                Inside sat an old man, already sitting on a pillow at a low table, waiting for Kenma. He sat up straighter when Kenma entered and greeted him with a small nod. Kenma sat across from him, letting his wings fold behind him to keep them off the floor.

                “Kenma,” he said. He reached over for his pipe and breathed in the tobacco. “How have you been feeling?”

                He shrugged, and turned to look out the window. He could see the small garden from his spot in the room. Flowers were already blooming, their vibrant colors pulling Kenma in. “The same, I guess.”

                Nekomata nodded and wrote something down in his journal. “Have you been sensing things lately?”

                Kenma glanced over at him from the corner of his eye, before turning back to face the garden. This was always how their interactions went. He would be brought into this room, sat down, and asked questions. Sometimes he would be taken to a separate room made of glass and they would remove his cuffs. They watched him as they instructed him to perform different tasks. It was a mundane part of his life, none that he welcomed, but he has since become numb to the fact that to them, he was just a specimen.

                Nephilim, they had called him. Child born of the sons of gods and the daughters of men. An abomination, a stain on this world that shouldn’t be. He heard the whispers in the hallways outside his door, felt the stares on him as he was escorted to these rooms. His life wasn’t his own and it never was since he was brought into these walls.

                “Last night,” he finally admits.

                Nekomata nodded and removed his pipe. “Another village has reported symptoms of the disease that is currently plaguing the East.”

                Kenma hums and closes his eyes. Recently they’ve been asking him more and more about him sensing things. He didn’t know much of what happened outside these walls, and they didn’t offer him any information. For all he could feel, the outside world was still a mystery to him.

                “I brought something I want you to see,” Nekomata said after he realized Kenma wouldn’t say more. He kept his eyes closed as he heard him shuffle stuff around in his bag before setting something on table before them with a mild clang.

                When he opened his eyes, he saw a jar filled with dark liquid. He could feel the power emitting off of it from where he sat. Slowly, he reached up his cuffed hands and brought the jar closer to him. The smell was rancid and inside the liquid slushed side to side as he jostled the jar. He held it up to the light and watched the contents slowly twirl. The color wasn’t exactly black, but close enough.

                “What is this?” Kenma asks, looking past the jar to stare at Nekomata.

                “Take a guess.”

                Kenma sighs and sets the jar back on the table. “Blood, very corroded blood. Is this what’s happening to your people?”

                “Sadly, this is all that is left of them. I want you to tell me if you feel something from this.”

                Kenma takes the jar again and opens the lid. The putrid smell fills the air and the power emitting off of it is stronger now that it isn’t contained. He feels small traces drift into the air like smoke in the light and dissipates into nothing. By the way Nekomata’s eyes don’t leave him, he’s sure that he isn’t able to see the traces of the demonic power. He lifts it closer to his face and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath of the liquid.

                At first, all he can feel is the scent infiltrating his body, but slowly like a fog clearing, he can see an image on the back of his eyelids.

                “A white horse,” he whispers.

                “What did you just say?” Nekomata sputters out. Kenma’s eyes are still closed, eyebrows furrowed together as the image focuses in front of him.

                “All I can see is a white horse and broken bow. I don’t know what you’re asking me for,” he says putting the jar down. Across from him, Nekomata’s eyes are wide, and Kenma has the underlying feeling that he may have said the wrong thing. He was asked to sense something and he sensed it, but Nekomata looked like he wanted to throw up.

                Nekomata takes a long drag from his pipe and stares at Kenma evenly. “Are you sure of what you saw?”

                “Yes,” he says confidently. He knows what he saw. There was no way something that vivid could be mistaken. The horse, beautiful in its own magnificent grace with jeweled hooves and a jeweled crown on its head. The mangled and broken bow lying on the ground below its feet, arrows spread out around it. He had seen a white horse and for some reason that had scared him just as much as it had scared Nekomata.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Akaashi!” Bokuto drawled. “Come practice with me!”

                Currently he was having no luck with finding anyone to practice with. It’s been like this for weeks since Suga and Kuroo had left to aid Oikawa in the East. With those three gone, he was finding less and less people to practice with. Even Akaashi was busy with more duties in their absence. His work was at a slow standstill. With all the attention on the East, crime was at a low in the Capital. People were afraid that they could invoke the plague upon their own hometown if they misbehaved.  He would be grateful for this fact, if he had someone to practice with.

                “Bokuto-san, please. I have double the amount of stuff to do with everything going on,” he says turning to shove a folder into the older man’s hands. Bokuto takes it willingly, but that doesn’t stop the frown from settling on his face. “Now, if you would be kind, please deliver that to the House of Fortitude.”

                “What is it?” Bokuto asks, still following Akaashi even though he had picked up his pace.

                “I don’t know Bokuto-san, but please, I am busy,” he says with finality that has Bokuto stopping in his steps. He sighs and then turns with folder in hand. If Akaashi was busy then maybe he could lessen his load by running small errands.

                He made his way across the Church grounds to the House of Fortitude. The weather was nice, so he didn’t really mind the walk. He greeted the people he passed on the way and pushed into the hall. Just like the rest of the compound, the House of Fortitude was filled with bustling students and Hunters. It seemed like everyone was on edge lately, and rumors were spreading.

                More villages were reporting cases of the epidemic and they had only so many official Hunters that were capable of healing. The lack in manpower was what had caused Kuroo, Oikawa, and Suga to be sent out in the place of other Hunters. Not to mention the Church still had their usual duties of purging demons and other evil spirits.

                Just yesterday, Iwaizumi had been sent on a mission to the North to banish a couple spirits that were hiding in the mountains. He wished that his House would assign him some work. Having the Gift of Justice didn’t really matter in times of general peace. Instead he was either floating around the compound with nothing to do or running errands from someone he happened to run into.

                “I’m here to drop this off,” he announced to the girl at the front desk. He slid the folder across the counter and let her take it.

                “Who is this for?” She asked, putting a stamp on the folder.

                “Uh, the House of Fortitude,” Bokuto mumbles. He hadn’t exactly gotten that information from Akaashi in his haste. He figured they would just know when he got there. “Akaashi sent me, from the House of Faith.”

                The girl sighed and put another stamp on the folder. “Bokuto-sama, you are the worst errand boy.”

                Bokuto crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “Ah, don’t say that! I got it here, didn’t I?”

                “Thank you for that,” she says, stuffing the folder into drawer.

                “No problem,” he says with a big smile. He had got the folder there, which is what he told Akaashi he would do. Now he just needed to find someone else to give him an errand.

 

* * *

 

 

                They were making progress, but it was too slow for anyone’s liking. They were able to prolong the lives of some villagers for weeks. One had even survived for two weeks and Kuroo was silently hoping that this would be the breakthrough that they needed, but he was gone with the setting sun. They burned bodies almost hourly at this point, and the villagers started looking less and less hopeful.

                Every night he was elbow deep in blood, his hands were probably stained blue at this point, and his fingers would cramp up from the amount of scroll writing he was doing. He slept an average of three hours a night. Meals consisted of mostly rice porridge, and if he was lucky there might be a bit of meat in it.

                He knew he wasn’t feeling the worst out of the group. It was Oikawa who had been there for months and had seen the worst of it. He slept less than Kuroo and only ate when he was forced to. He was working himself into the ground day and night with no consideration for himself.

                 Kuroo had to trick him into drinking a sleep potion and he was now sound asleep, snoring lightly next to him. Suga had said that he could take over to give Oikawa the rest he needed and it had already been a couple hours. A few more and he would wake him up. He’ll be pissed, but he’ll be coherent. Again, Kuroo wished that he was better at healing spells. But he knew he had a different job here. As well as being a living battery pack for Suga and Oikawa, he was the one who was supposed to figure this out.

                His Gift granted him the ability to apply the information he gathered from the Book of Knowledge. There was power is knowing and his power came from being able to discern where to use it. It took discipline and careful study; one false piece of information would change everything and the Book of Knowledge barely said things in black and white.

                _Patience_ , he thought, the first Fruit which he had acquired all those years ago. That was the start of his journey as a Hunter under the House of Knowledge. Out of the seven of them, he was the first one to develop a Fruit. Nekomata had took him under his wing to teach him from the Book directly, and ever since then the Church of Apostles had put a lot of faith in him; in all of them.

                He was sent here, because Nekomata believed that he could find a way to beat this. If he could just think of something, then all he would need is for Oikawa and Suga to apply it. They didn’t have to say it, but he knew fairly well that they were all waiting for him. Oikawa and Suga could only prolong the lives of the villagers for so long. If anyone was going to get saved, then it would be Kuroo who had to get his shit together.

                He stares at the scroll in front of him. He had been altering the scrolls almost daily, trying to find the correct method with the correct herbs that provided the best outcomes. He picked up his pen and started from the beginning, using the basic structure of a purifying spell to build upon.

                This Pestilence stayed in the bloodstream, slowly corroding the body and destroying the internal organs. A normal person’s body can’t handle that much demonic energy and an extended exposure to it in this quantity would cause bodily functions to cease. So far, they’ve been able to slow down the progression of the Pestilence, but have yet to actually purify the body. It seemed that as soon as a spell was activated the Pestilence would attempt to multiply and it took a great deal of spiritual energy to overcome that.

                Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he glanced over to Oikawa, who was slightly stirring in his sleep. He opened his mouth to yawn and mumbled out, “Stop messing with me, Iwa-chan, get out.”

                Kuroo froze. He didn’t know if Oikawa was an idiot for having a dream that Iwaizumi was bothering him in the middle of a crisis or a genius. In a second he was on him, gripping him hard and shaking him awake.

                “Tooru, get up!”

                “W-what? Kuroo, I fell asleep? What the hell are you doing?”

                “I think I figured it out,” he said.

                Realization was slow to cross over his face, but a second later he was stumbling to sit up, gripping Kuroo with his hands.

                “Kuroo, you brilliant asshole, I knew you could do it,” he exclaimed, jumping on him and knocking him over in the process. They untangled their limbs and sat up on the floor, his hair no longer its usual beauty, but Kuroo was sure he didn’t mind. “What do you need?”

                “Go to Suga, he should be working with a patient. I just need five minutes to make the scrolls.”

                Without another word, Oikawa was outside the tent, making a beeline for Suga. Kuroo went back to his supplies that had got scattered around the tent and started writing faster than he had the whole time. His hands ached, but ten minutes later he had successfully created a couple new scrolls and was running after Oikawa and Suga.

                “What is his condition?” he asks as he burst into the tent.

                “Not good,” Suga admits. He was kneeling by a pale man, his body decorated with black veins and discolored skin. His chest rose rapidly and black blood sputter from his mouth every time he coughed. “He just lost consciousness not too long ago.”

                “Okay,” Kuroo says sitting across from Tooru and Suga. He had brought supplies with him and set them down in front of him. “So, we’ve been going at this wrong. The disease has been in the blood this whole time, and we’ve been treating this as a closed system. Trying to purify the blood as it flows through the system, while instead we should be trying to purify it outside the system.”

                Tooru and Suga stared back at him like two fish being told to walk for the first time.

                “You’re not making any sense, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa retorts.

                He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, we need to get rid of the corroded blood. We need to do it fast enough that it doesn’t have time to multiply, as well as, preventing him from dying during the treatment. In other words: bloodletting.”

                “What? But the Church hasn’t practiced bloodletting for years,” Suga said. No one was currently taught the practice, but Kuroo had read about it from the Book of Knowledge. It was an almost ancient technique and considered a taboo, but he was certain that this was the way.

                “I know, but I can talk you two through it,” he said. He dug through supplies and pulled out a small vial and a needle. “We need to get his blood pressure and heart rate up to a point that would be lethal, while not killing him, and drain him from the corroded blood.”

                “Wait, Kuroo, this is crazy,” Oikawa declared before Kuroo could do anything.

                “Tooru, Koushi,” he says slowly. “Do you trust me?” He looks them both in the eye and waits for them to nod. “Good, then trust me with this.” He wraps a scroll around the arm closest to him. “This scroll should attract the bad blood to flow in this direction. I’m going to make an incision right across the wrist underneath the edge of the scroll.”

                Oikawa grabs and knife and hands it to him. If they were wrong then— no, Kuroo was certain that this was the way. He had no time for error and he would cure this with sure willpower if he needed to.

                “Suga, I need you to focus your power over his heart, bring his heart rate up to the point that it could explode. Oikawa, I need you to focus on keeping his body and heart intact. We’re going to be ripping him apart while putting him back together at the same time and if we’re not all in sync then he could die.”

                Kuroo grabs the wrist he wrapped the scroll around and breathes out. “It’s better if we all link together. We can use the Fruit of Goodness. Use me as a source of power if you need to. I’ll focus as much as I can on this scroll to draw the blood out quicker. As soon as I say so, you two need to focus on solely repairing him.”

                “Okay,” they both say.

                Kuroo closes his eyes and waits for the familiar prodding sensation of Suga and Oikawa attempting to link with him. He focuses on his breathing as he lets their energy merge with his and his chest feels tight with the feeling of being linked to two people. They didn’t have much practice with linking with multiple people, but they would have to bear with the discomfort for the time being.

                “Alright,” Kuroo said when they were all linked. “Let’s do this.”

                He felt the pull on his spirit energy instantly, his stomach churned and he had to fight to stay sitting up. He clenched the knife until his knuckles were white and dragged the knife across the man’s wrist. As soon as he made the cut he pushed as much energy into the scroll, watching as it glowed with his power. He felt the surged of energy run through the man and his veins moved as if they were alive.

                Blood poured out of him as if he was a faucet and Kuroo felt bile rise up in his throat. The smell was overwhelming and he was practically getting covered in it. He would have to throw away these clothes. He watched as the black blood poured out of the man, black veins slowly disappearing across his body and it felt like hours. The tent was quiet, except for ragged breathing of the man and the heavy breathing of each of them.

                Then he saw red. Red blood flowed out of the cut and he almost sobbed. “Now!” he practically screamed out. Oikawa and Suga responded instantly, focusing on placing their hands over his body, eyes closed, and silently muttering to themselves. Kuroo pulled off the scroll and wrapped gauze around his wrist. His nerves were still getting to him and his hand shook as he picked up the veil and needle again.

                “This should help stimulate blood production,” he stated as he found a now normal vein and inserted the needle. They all waited silently as the man before them evened out his breathing. His skin was still discolored, but his veins were back to their normal color. There was no more demonic blood.

                “His veins,” Suga was the one to break the silence. He sobbed into his sleeve. “We did it.”

                “Is he going to be alright now?” Oikawa said, looking up at Kuroo who sat back on his heels, exhausted.

                “He should be. He’ll need IV fluids and nutrients, maybe a purifying spell just to be safe, but his blood was red at the end of it. Now we just need him to make it through.” Kuroo states robotically. He was still in a daze and he couldn’t get over the fact that what they had done worked. It was an inane and far-fetched idea, but the man’s breathing was evening out and his cheeks seemed to gain a bit of color.

                “Come on,” Suga said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We have to get you cleaned up and out of these clothes. If he makes it through the night, we’ll send a letter to the Capital and begin treating the other patients.”

                Kuroo nodded and silently followed him out the tent as Oikawa set up an IV.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ever since that day with Nekomata, Kenma’s been having nightmares. He doesn’t know if they actually qualify as nightmares, since there is nothing explicitly scary about them. It’s just the feel he gets whenever he wakes from them; feathers ruffled, dark hair sticking to his face and neck from the sweat. He couldn’t go back to sleep after that, would rather just wait out the feeling until the mornings came again. The sinister feelings he was left with always faded when the sun rose.

                His visits with Nekomata became more frequent. He brought various things; carved artifacts, jewels, scrolls, and much more in the attempt to try to get it to trigger something in Kenma. All of them were for naught, he hadn’t felt a similar feeling like the first time, and he was silently grateful for it.

                The days passed and he was starting to think that he had just overexaggerated the whole thing. But one night the nightmare changed. This time instead of a horse standing over a broken bow, his dream was filled with blood. He didn’t want to look closer, but he was compelled to do so. He came closer to the scene, screaming internally at every second.

                The horse, or what was left of it, lay on the ground, tore apart and limbs thrown carelessly around. Rotting guts spilled out of the horse and flies buzzed around the carcass. He could see maggots moving between the intestines of the horse. He wanted to throw up, to empty his stomach and run away as fast as he could. But he only took a step closer. Close enough that he was able to see right into the belly of the beast.

                Right in the middle of the carnage was a lone feather, black with a golden shaft. His own. His heart seized in his chest and he turned to run, but a breeze ran over him. It touched every nook of his body and he felt himself shudder. “ _My child,_ ” the breeze whispered delicately in his ear. He felt his head being cradled and his cheek being caressed.

                Very suddenly, like elastic being snapped, he was brought back to reality with the feeling of his head being split open. He let out a guttural scream and doubled over. Tears poured out of his eyes and he gripped his head. The pain was immense, more than he had ever felt his whole life. His body felt like hot lava was just poured into his veins and his skull threatened to crack open.

                He felt the room shake around him and his wings extended, beating wildly in his panic, and he was lifted off of the ground. He dangled in the air as his screams echoed around him. He was vaguely aware of the golden glow coming off of his wings and horns, but those were the least of his worries. His door was slammed open and someone shouted something at him.

                “Get away from me” he growled. He put out his hand to toss whoever was approaching him back. He heard a thud and more people filled the room. Despite his splitting headache and the heat emitting from his body, he opened his eyes.

                He was suspended in the air, his wings glowed with golden lines going through them. Below him were about five people he had never seen. They all had wide eyes as they glanced up at him.

                “You,” he spits, “you’re the ones keeping me here.”

                “Someone get Nekomata,” a girl said to the group. A guy turns to do just that, but Kenma is on him in an instant. His nails extend into claws and he grips him by the shoulder, slamming him into the opposite wall outside his room.

                “You’re not going anywhere,” he says, turning back to corner the group of people.

The man he grabbed lays unconscious next to him and he beats his wings again to lift into the air. He moves to stalks toward the group, but a ball of energy comes spiraling towards him. It connects with one of his wings and knocks him off balance, hitting the wall in an attempt to right himself in the air. He snaps his head in the direction of the attack and locks onto Nekomata.

                A menacing smile spreads across his face and he beats his wings in the air. _Kill_. A laugh slips past his lips and lunges for him. There’s a flash of bright light and he feels something wrap around his legs. He is pulled out of the air and falls onto the floor, wings beating against the ground.

                “Contain him,” Nekomata says, “use the level two spells to prevent him from moving.”

                Kenma growls and tugs against the restraints. He feels them tighten around his legs and his wings are held back, being restrained my someone else. Without his wings, he attempts to claw his way out, but years in captivity has prevented him from learning much about his powers.

                “Get off of me,” he screams. “I will gut all of you horrid creatures.”

                He feels the pressure weighing down on him and very slowly he is brought back to that pitch blackness that he was trying to escape just moments earlier.

 

* * *

  

                “Ugh, you don’t know how weird it is for me to be actually happy that I am to be going back to the Capital,” Tooru drawls. He stretches out in the back of the carriage, and it’s the first Kuroo has seen him so relaxed in a while.

                Suga chuckles where he’s seated on the bench, going through his journal. “That’s because you’ve always been a rebellious child.”

                “That’s not true,” Tooru says, sitting up and pointing at Kuroo. “It was always him convincing me to sneak out and explore the compound at night.”

                “What?” Kuroo says affronted. “If I remember it correctly, you always wanted me to help you climb the Church buildings so you could see the sky better.”

                “That never happened,” he says with finality and crosses his arms.

                “Really,” Suga eyes them both from the corner of his eye. “Then how did you end up with a broken arm?”

                “That’s because Tetsu-chan pushed me out of a tree,” Oikawa says.

                “What? I never pushed you out of a tree,” Kuroo says.

                “What the hell! You did. We were climbing trees out in the garden and you wanted to hide from Nekomata, but then you got scared by something and pushed me out of the tree.”

                Kuroo pauses and then starts laughing. “Oh shit, I remember that. Nekomata was so mad at me that he made me do all of your duties for the whole time you had a cast. Anyways, it was an accident. Don’t be so petty, Tooru.”

                He scoffs, but turns back to rest more comfortably on the blankets lining the floor. “I’m not being petty, you morons. I’m just saying; I spent way too long away from my own bed without anyone else sleeping two feet next to me.”

                “You say that, but I’m sure poor _Iwa-chan_ will be warming your bed right next to you,” Suga teases.

                “I’m glad that I’ll be rid of both of you,” he says.

                “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Tooru, you’ll get wrinkles,” Kuroo says, reclining back. After almost a month away, he too was happy to be back. They had successfully completed their mission, sending the fastest horse to the Capital with copies of the scrolls Kuroo made, samples of the herbs they used, and a detailed letter of what they did. He didn’t know if the Church found it unfavorable, because the only message they replied was to hurry back after they finished treating the village.

                Hopefully, their work was able to get to the other villages in time. It’s been days since they left and the tall walls of the Capital was finally coming into sight. As they got closer, Kuroo felt his stomach sinking.

                “Something’s wrong,” he said. Oikawa didn’t stir where he lay, but Suga put his journal down and glanced outside the windows. “Nekomata usually waits outside the Capital walls to greet me.”

                “Now that you mention it, you’re right,” Suga says.

                “He’s probably busy, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa says, yawning and wiping his eyes.

                Even as they got closer to the Church compound he didn’t feel his worries lessening. The Church members moved around, preparing for the day and completing their duties, but Kuroo just felt the underlining feeling that something was wrong.

                When the carriage stopped, Oikawa was the first one to leave.

                “Iwa-chan!” he yelled as he jumped on a man a little shorter than him with spiky brown hair and a stoic expression. The man caught him and squeezed him tightly, burying his head into the crook of Oikawa’s neck.

                “Bo!” Kuroo yelped. He lifted his bag on his shoulder and grinned as he approached the duo-colored haired man. He had his arms crossed and feet spread wide as he returned Kuroo’s own grin.

                “Kuroo! I missed you, there was no one to practice with this whole time,” he whined.

                Kuroo laughed and was wrapped up in strong arms. “I missed you too.”

                There was the sound of someone clearing their throat and all heads turned to Akaashi who stood off to the side with Suga. “I know you just got back, but we’ve been told to gather in the Great Hall as soon as you returned.”

                “I can’t get a break for an hour?” Oikawa whined, putting his hand on his hip and frowning.

                “Ah, well, I’m sure it’ll be quick,” Suga said. He scratched the back of his head and glanced at Kuroo.

                “Where’s shrimpy?” he asked as they followed Akaashi to the center of the compound where the Great Hall was located.

                “He’s already there,” Akaashi answers. “We’ve been waiting on you three.”

                “Do you know what’s this about?” He already didn’t like the feeling he got when they made it to the Capital and now the Elders were summoning all seven of them.

                Akaashi paused and then shook his head. “No, but ever since the other night the Elders have kept themselves holed up in the Great Hall.”

                “The other night? What happened?”

                “I’m not really sure, but there was some type of disturbance.”

                “Disturbance? Did someone try to attack the Church?” Oikawa asked. He had widened his strides when he caught the serious tone in Akaashi’s voice and was following closely behind them.

                “I’m not really sure,” he says.

                “Nobody really knows anything,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ve been told to keep people away from the Great Hall, but everyone else was told to go about their day as usual.”

                “What are they doing holing themselves up for?” Oikawa mumbles.

                “I don’t know, but I’m sure they’ll tell us.”

                They were easily let into the Great Hall and none of them spoke. Maybe they all could feel tension in the air. The Great Hall seemed to be completely cleared out, workers who should be there gone, and the only person they saw was a pacing Hinata outside the doors of the gathering room. He stilled when he saw them, but his eyes were wide.

                “You’re finally here!” he screamed, running towards them. “Do you know what’s going on?”

                “Calm down, Hinata-kun,” Suga said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re just as in the dark as you are.”

                “I was told to come here and wait outside until we all came.” He was bouncing between his two feet and had been chewing on his nails.

                “Well, let’s not keep them waiting any longer,” Suga said. He knocked on the two grand doors and pushed them open.

                Inside sat the seven Elders of each House in a half circle. They were raised on a platform and faced the empty benches on the other side of the room. Usually the Great Hall was used as a meeting place between other Churches or for when a Hunter needed to be judged by the Elders for a crime they committed against the Church. Students and Hunters could come to watch and learn, but this time the room was empty. There would be no audience or listening ears.

                Kuroo scanned the faces of the seven Elders and let out a small sigh when he saw Nekomata. He was alright, but something in his expression told Kuroo that his mentor was exhausted. They silently took a seat on the front benches and nervously waited. It was Nekomata who broke the silence.

                “First of all, we’d like to welcome you back and thank you three on your hard work. With your information, we were able to save countless lives and prevent further damage.”

                “Thank you,” Suga says bowing his head slightly.

                “No problem,” Oikawa says.

                “But what’s going on?” Kuroo says. Everyone is just avoiding that they had all been gathered here. He didn’t want pleasantries or praise, he wanted answers.

                “You incorrigible brat,” the Elder of the House of Justice spits. “Learn your place.”

                “Takahiro, that’s enough. I will discipline my apprentice,” Nekomata says.

                “If you properly disciplined him, then he wouldn’t be speaking out in the first place,” he mutters.

                Kuroo clenches his fist, but doesn’t let it show on his face. The Elder of the House of Justice has always hated him since he stepped foot on the Church grounds. He was against the idea of Nekomata taking him in as an apprentice and never acknowledged his efforts. If he had it his way, then Kuroo would have never been able to learn to become a Hunter.

                “That’s enough,” Nekomata says. “They have a right to know.” He turns to look at each and every one of them. “What you see and hear today must never be spoken to anyone, not even your fellow students or Hunters. If you break this oath, then you will be charged with high treason against the Church and humanity itself. Do you understand what this means?”

                Kuroo went rigid. The only punishment given to those who commit high treason was execution.

                “I accept.” Kuroo turned with wide eyes to face Oikawa on the side of him. He wanted to get him to think about this, but the determined look on his face told him that there was no room for argument.

                Iwaizumi was the next person to accept and very slowly all of them had made the oath, except for Kuroo. How could he agree without knowing what he was agreeing to keep silent? He didn’t know the weight of his choices, but he swallowed his fear and faced Nekomata.

                “I agree.”

                “Good,” he said. He rose and swung his hand in the air. Energy crackled from where he stood and a door opened up. A box shaped object entered the room, covered by a black cloth and he set it down in the middle of the floor. Something stirred inside under the cloth and everyone seemed to sit more on edge. In one swift motion the cloth was pulled back to reveal what was inside.

                The first thing Kuroo was able to comprehend was a small figure, but then, a ball of blackness. The blackness stirred and shifted and Kuroo was able to make out wings. Black feathers rustled where they could while being restrained by white light made of dense energy. The next thing he was able to name were the small horns at the top of it, curved slightly outwards, before curving inwards and ending in another outwards curve, almost like an elongated ‘S’. The creature’s back was facing towards them, but he could see that they were also restrained with numerous seals.

                “What is it?” Oikawa asked. He was leaning towards the railing, hands gripping it tightly and eyes taking in as much information as possible.

                “It’s an abomination,” Takahiro spit.

                The figure shifted, but made no move to do anything else.

                “It’s a Nephilim,” Nekomata says slowly.

                Kuroo mouthed the word, letting it sit on his tongue. He had only seen the word once, in the Book of Knowledge, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. Nephilim were creatures of myth and rumor, never before seen giants that had walked the earth and shaped the land with their own two feet.

                “This doesn’t make any sense,” Kuroo mutters.

                “I thought the Nephilim were supposed to be giants,” Akaashi says.

                “That’s what we thought too,” Nekomata says.

                “They’re supposed to be a myth,” Kuroo says. “The offspring of the sons of gods and the daughters of man; beings that cannot be.”

                “Until 17 years ago, we took that as a fact. You were taught that the sons of gods were fallen angels who were forced to walk the world and lose their place in the skies. The last time an Angel had fallen was before any of the major Churches had been constructed, but 17 years ago, there was a rumor of a fallen angel who had walked the earth. We had always assumed that the daughters of man meant humans, but we were wrong.

                “It is man who creates Demons, through desire and want, we gave birth to the great demons known as the Seven Deadly Sins. Since the beginning of humanity these Sins have plagued the world, corrupting mankind and creating lesser demons to do their work. The Church was created to fight these monsters and purify the world. We pledge ourselves to the Seven Gifts and utilize the power of the Fruit of Divinity for our purpose. For hundreds of years, these Sins have not shown their face, but again 17 years ago, one walked the earth.

                “She was Wrath and she brought destruction wherever she went. It happened while you were all very young and was taught to you in school as the Calamity of Wrath. When she walked, the Alliance of Churches came together to prevent the obliteration of the world. But before we could act, she was gone just as soon as she had come. The only thing she left was the aftermath of her destruction and her offspring with the fallen angel.

                “We took the child and has kept it here for all these years, raising it and studying it to better understand its power. Its existence has been the greatest secret of the Alliance, one that cannot be known to the general public.”

                Everyone was silent, slowly letting the information sink in. A Nephilim; and what, they just had it in the basement the whole time? Why keep it? How did they keep it? A hundred different questions ran through his mind, but the ones he asked were: “Why are you telling us this? I mean, after all this time? Why now?”

                “It’s because we believe that the Sins are planning something. Pestilence, War, Famine, Death; the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse by which they will destroy everything. These are the mediums for their powers. Just how we use the Fruit of Divinity, they use the Four Horsemen.”

                “You said ‘apocalypse’, right?” Suga says. “Like the end of days?”

                “The end of mankind and the beginning of hell on earth,” he says.

                “If that’s the case, then don’t we just have to defeat the Four Horsemen? Like how we did with Pestilence,” Oikawa asks.

                “The Four Horsemen are not something you can just kill,” Nekomata says. “They’re not even physical things. They are primordial concepts that have existed since the beginning of time and will be here when we’re all gone. All we can do is stall or minimize the damage.”

                “Then how do we do that?” Hinata asked. It was the first time he spoke since agreeing to the oath, and seeing him back to his usual ready-to-go self, made Kuroo feel a little better about the end of days coming.

                “By solving it through any means necessary. The Four Horsemen are not going to be pushed back with rudimentary attacks or plans. That’s why we brought you seven here. Each of you have displayed unparalleled growth and potential for your Gift. We believe that if we have any hope of stopping the Sins, then it lies with you.”

                “That’s a lot of faith in seven kids who haven’t even become official Hunters yet,” Oikawa says. He crosses his arms over his chest and eyes the cage in the middle of the floor again. “If we fail then everything will end.”

                “Then we won’t fail,” Iwaizumi says.

                “How can you be so sure of that?”

                “Iwaizumi’s right. Just like the village, we have no time to fail. We have a duty under the Seven Gifts to fight this and win,” Bokuto says.

                “What about it?” Akaashi says, motioning towards the cage. The Nephilim had been motionless the whole time. “How are you even restraining it?”

                “We’ve placed a seal on him ever since he was young to lock away most of his powers. This way he can be easily restrained,” Nekomata says.

                “So, it’s a he,” Akaashi mutters.

                “Yes, his name is Kenma.”

                “What are we going to do about him?” Oikawa asks.

                “There’s only one account of someone meeting with a Nephilim in the past. We were never able to verify its credibility, but now it should provide most useful. It’s a journal kept by the Church of Prophets in the nation of Shiratorizawa.”

                Oikawa scoffs and rolls his eyes, but Nekomata ignores the display.

                “I will send three of you with the Nephilim to Shiratorizawa. There you may learn about the secrets of his existence and what is to come.”

                “Who do you plan to send?” Kuroo asks, already knowing the answer.

                “I will send you, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi.”

 

_All you have is your fire_

_And the place you need to reach_

_Don't you ever tame your demons_

_But always keep them on a leash_

_-Hozier_


	2. Legendary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, our characters begin their journey!   
> Enjoy another chapter!

_Take a look around me_

_Taking pages from a magazine_

_Been looking for the answer_

_Ever since we were seventeen_

_-Welshly Arms_

                That night he couldn’t sleep. It was the first time he had ever heard of anything about his parents. Kenma’s parents; an angel and Wrath. He had no memories of them, no image to go on, all he’s ever known were these walls. The people who raised him were not friendly nor in any way affectionate. He knew at such a young age that what they felt for him was nothing other than the wonder a child has looking at a bug before it inevitably squashes it.

                He was taught many things and many words by Nekomata. Pictures of people holding small children, smiles plastered on their faces, but the word ‘mother’ or ‘father’ was just as foreign to him as flight would be to a fish. He was taught what Nekomata said were things children his age learned in normal schools, but none of it mattered. He read because he was told to and learned because he had nothing else to do.

                Pictures of small children being picked up and held. His body did not know the feeling.

                Ever since he had lost control and attacked the workers they kept him restrained. His wings were pinned back and the lack of mobility was the worst. He never had freedom, but his large wings granted him that illusion. Now, the way he was, there was no hiding the fact that he was a caged animal awaiting the slaughter house.

                He was taught many things, but none of it was what he really wanted to know. They forced labels on him; abomination, stain, and told him to behave. Whenever he was close to expressing one of his powers they put more seals on his body, locking it away and preventing him from ever knowing more. And now they had taken his wings. Kenma was angry and he hated himself for how weak he was. He was supposed to some big fearful monster that they kept calling him, but all he felt like was a small child with no understanding of anything.

                He didn’t sleep and he watched as morning greeted the world.

                They already took the little things he had in his room and packed it away. Today, he would be leaving these walls for the first time in his life. There was a knock on his door and he didn’t move when the door opened and in came Nekomata followed by someone he’s never seen before. The man was tall, with dark unruly hair that covered his one eye and tan skin. The other eye that wasn’t obstructed was a deep caramel color.

                “Kenma,” Nekomata said as they entered the room and closed the door. He didn’t respond, just watched them warily where he lay on his side in bed. Nekomata took a seat and reached into his pocket. “I’m here to return something to you.”

                Kenma watched as he pulled out a gold chain from his pocket. The sunlight reflected off a flat surface between the links and he could make out his own name as it dangled.

                “This was with you when we found you. Whoever made this left it with you so we would know your name. I’ve kept it all this time, but I’d like to return it back to you now.”

                Kenma closed his eyes as the man approached him. He didn’t like being touched, the feeling was always foreign to him and usually everyone made an effort to stay away from him. But in the rare times where contact was impossible to avoid he felt his skin crawl and his stomach pitch forward. He felt the bed shift with his presence and the hair on his neck was swept back. A small weight rested in the crook of his neck and then Nekomata was pulling back again.

                He kept his eyes closed for a couple more seconds to compose himself. Nekomata sat back down and both him and the stranger watched him. Kenma looked away.

                “I also wanted to introduce you to someone,” he said. “This is my apprentice, Kuroo Tetsurou. You weren’t able to meet him yesterday because your back was turned to him, but he is one of the three that is going with you to Shiratorizawa.”

                Very slowly he glanced over at the man. He gave him a quick once over before propping himself up as best as he could. He leaned back on the wall and ran his bound hands on the front of his pants.

                “So, this is your dear apprentice you’re always musing over,” Kenma says, head tilted to the side. “You’re sending him in your place to guard me?”

                “No, I’m not,” Nekomata says. “I’m sending him with you because he has a bright mind and he’ll be able to make use of the information there the best. If we want to be able to learn more about you, then he’s the best option.”

                Kenma sighs and rolls his neck, the chain around it shifting with his movements. “That’s grand coming from you, ya know? What do you even want from me? Isn’t it enough to keep me chained up like this?”

                “If there’s some way that we can use you to stop all of this, then we will.”

                This time he actually laughs. “Use me? Do you think I would help? I’d rather die than help you. It would be my pleasure to watch all of you burn.”

                The guy next to Nekomata flinches and Kenma smiles, glad that even bound and shackled, he wasn’t taken lightly.

                “Of course, I’m not saying that you’ll do this for nothing,” he says. “If you help us, then you have my word, I will grant you your freedom.”

                Kenma hums and flicks a piece of dust off his pants. “You know it’s not nice to lie, Ne-ko-ma-ta-san,” he says. “The word of a captor means nothing to the captive.”

                “Then I will make a blood oath with you. I will not be able to break it.”

                Kenma leans forward. “How do you know I won’t tear this whole place apart right after I get my hands free?”

                “Let’s just say that I like to gamble.”

                “Fine, old man, I’ll do it. Make your oath and I’ll help save you, pesky humans.”

                Nekomata got up and produced a small blade. “Put out your hands.”

                Kenma held up his bound hands and turned them faced up. Nekomata took the knife and sliced neatly across his palm. A small pool of blood filled his palm and he stuck his finger into it and swirled it slowly, chanting as white light glowed softly.

                “I make an oath to you, that you will have your freedom if you aid us in stopping this catastrophe from spreading,” he says. He removes his finger from the pool of blood and writes his name in Kenma’s palm. He chants again and the blood glows and warms in his hands before sinking down into his skin.

                “There, now even though you said you’ll do it, there are still some precautions we need to take. I’ll remove some of your restraints so you won’t have to spend the whole time bound, but I’ll keep the seal suppressing your power in place as well as a seal that could immobilize you, if need be.”

                Nekomata touches the restraints lightly and they fade away. Kenma can feel the weight being lifted off of him and he carefully unfolds his wings, feeling them ache from being restrained. He flaps them slowly, testing out how stiff they are and not finding many problems there. They were sore but intact.

                “Now, follow us, you should be on your way to Shiratorizawa,” Nekomata says.

 

* * *

 

                “How have your lessons been?”

                Bokuto shrugs his shoulders and uses his chopsticks to move around his food. The dinner table is empty, except for the two of them, and although he should be used to this fact, it hasn’t become easier.

                “Good, I guess,” he says.

                “Have you been focusing on learning the family technique?”

                “Yes, I’m getting the hang of it, father,” he says around a bite of food.

                “Good, because all the men in your family have mastered that technique for generations. You’re going to have to master it so you can take over after me, son,” Takahiro says.

                “I know,” Bokuto mumbles.

                “I’ve prepared something for you,” Takahiro says. He signals a servant in the corner of the room and they leave with a bow. “I figured it was the time you inherited the katana of your ancestors.” The servant returns with an elongated wooden case and Takahiro accepts it with a sigh. He tests the weight of the box before sliding it over to Bokuto.

                Bokuto took the box with still hands, running his fingers over the smooth wood. “Thank you, father.”

                “As you know, that katana has stayed in our family since the first brick in the foundation of this Church was put in place. It has served countless men as the Elders of this House and slain countless demons in the name of Justice. It’s only fitting that in these times you take it with you.”

                “Thank you, father,” he says again.

                Takahiro sighs and stands from his seat. “Well, let’s hope that it will be able to grant you strength.”

                The servants clear out after Takahiro leaves and Bokuto is left to his own thoughts. His food has since become cold and he wasn’t in the mood to eat it anyways. He stares down at the box in front of him. He knew this day would come. As heir to his families’ Gift, he knew that he would one day wield this katana, but that doesn’t make him want it in the slightest.

                He gets up, leaving the katana there, and runs as fast as he can.

                It’s not until he’s huffing and puffing that he realizes where his feet brought him. He’s standing at the top of a hill that overlooks the Church grounds. He sighs and collapses, lying on his back in an attempt to catch his breath. His body hurts from all the running he did and he lets the fatigue weigh down on him.

                “I knew I’d find you here,” a calm voice says. He doesn’t need to look to know who it was. Akaashi settles down next to him and pulls Bokuto into his lap so his head is resting comfortably there. Bokuto closes his eyes as he feels fingers move through his now down hair. They’re silent for a moment as Bokuto gets his thoughts together.

                “My father gave me the _Kiyomeru_ blade,” he mumbles. “He went on about learning the technique to wield the katana.”

                “Hmm,” Akaashi hum, focusing on untangling a small knot in his hair.

                “I mean, it wasn’t even supposed to be me who inherited everything. I’m not worthy of such a thing.”

                “Is that what your father said?”

                “No, but I know that’s what he’s thinking. It was never supposed to be me. I’m just a replacement, so he has no choice but to give it to me if he wants to pass on the line.”

                “That may be true, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says.

                “’Kaashi! That doesn’t make me feel better,” he whines, turning in Akaashi’s lap so he could look up at him better.

                “But,” he says, “It doesn’t really matter who was supposed to do what. You’re here now and he gave you the katana. The day will come when you proudly wield the katana with the confidence you need. It might not be right now, but I trust in you. You should learn to trust in yourself.”

                Bokuto is quiet for half a second before wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s neck and pushing him down on his back. He knocks all the air out of his chest, but in the next second he is holding his face between his hands and beaming down at him.

                “Akaashi! You really trust me?”

                “Yes, Bokuto-san, now please get off of me; your elbow is in my ribs.”

                “Akaashi,” he whines, planting kisses all over his face.

                He pulls off of him and stands, with his feet planted and hands on his hip, to face the world below him.

                “You’re right. I said all those things the other day about how this is our duty, but here I am running away from my own. No more,” he says, dramatically swiping his arm out. “I may not be my brother, but as long as I serve the Gift of Justice, I will keep taking action.”

                He turns to face Akaashi and extends a hand to help him to his feet.

                “Come on, we can’t stop now.”

 

* * *

 

 

                He didn’t really think Nekomata would do it when he said he would make a blood oath with the Nephilim, but he had kept his mouth shut during the whole time. He wouldn’t question Nekomata, not his mentor, the one who taught him everything he knew. If he believed that he was making the right decision, then he wouldn’t doubt him. Nekomata has yet to doubt him.

                “You have nothing to fear with Kenma,” he had said to him before they left the Capital. “He will keep his end of the deal. He may be Nephilim, but the only thing he’s ever wanted was to be free.”

                They had set out that morning, one closed carriage attached to two horses and a lone horse would take them all the way to Shiratorizawa and back. They packed supplies, tents, hunting and fishing gear, and anything else they might need on their long journey. The passage between the two nations was a no-man’s land, where nomads and other lost creatures congregated. They brought weapons for protection, because the list of monsters they might face was vast.

                Oikawa hums cheerfully at the front of the carriage on the perch, guiding the horses behind Iwaizumi who is leading the way on the lone horse. Kuroo sits in the back on the carriage, reading over the material he was able to find in their library. All students were taught about the Seven Deadly Sins, although the information was vague and scarce. They were taught their names: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Pride; and overall qualities about them, but other than that they were still a mystery. Just the other day, he didn’t even know that the Sins had biological sexes.

                He glances up at Kenma, who sits on the other side of the carriage. His wings were drawn around him like a blanket and his dark hair covered his knees where he rests his head with closed eyes. He swayed gently with the movement of the carriage, and Kuroo would have thought him to be asleep, but he knew better. Those golden slits of his eyes were cautious, always watching his surroundings and ready to act, if need be. He had been on edge the whole time in their presence. Everyone seemed to be on edge, even Oikawa wasn’t joking around.

                “We should rest here,” Iwaizumi calls out. He pulls his horse to the side and off the trail. “There’s a small stream ahead and we should water the horses and make camp before we run out of sunlight.”

                Kuroo feels the carriage shake as they move off course and stands to gather his things. When he looks outside, he can see Iwaizumi already tying off his horse near a tree by the stream. “I’ll help you pitch your tent the first time, but after that, you’ll have to be responsible for setting it up yourself,” he says.

                Kenma slowly glances up at him, before turning to rest his head the opposite way. “That won’t be necessary.”

                Kuroo doesn’t question him and exits the carriage. Oikawa is already tying off the other horses and Iwaizumi is setting up the perimeter with wards.

                “Where is he?” Oikawa asks him when he’s done.

                “Still inside,” Kuroo says. “He’s never left the Capital so I doubt he knows much about setting up a camp.”

                “Doesn’t mean he can’t help out?” Oikawa mutters.

                “Drop it, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says as he hits him on the head with a quiver of arrows. “How about you go shoot something we can cook, while we finish setting up?”

                “Fine,” he huffs, taking the quiver and bow from him.

                They get to work pitching the tents and building a small fire. Even though Kenma said he didn’t need one, Kuroo built it anyways. He didn’t know much about him, but he didn’t want him to be uncomfortable away from the Capital for the first time. If he was too proud to ask for help from a human, Kuroo wasn’t going to hold it against him. Humans had been keeping him locked up his whole life.

                By the time they finished setting up, Kenma had exited the carriage. The sun was setting in the sky and cast an orange tint on the forest around them. Kuroo watched him as his eyes wandered around, wide and taking everything in.

                “The outside world is very beautiful, isn’t it,” he said, approaching him slowly. “Here, water from the stream. It’s cold.”

                He held out the flask of water he just collected. Kenma eyed it suspiciously but took it.

                “Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it or anything,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

                “I know,” he says, taking a swing of the water. “I don’t benefit you if I’m dead.”

                “That’s true, but that’s not why I— you know what, never mind, that doesn’t matter,” he says. “I set up your tent for you since I figured that—”

                “I told you that won’t be necessary.”

                “Then where are you going to sleep?”

                Kenma turns away from him and begins walking further into the woods. “Does it matter?” he calls over his shoulders. Kuroo follows close behind, not ready to end the conversation. Kenma spreads out his wings and Kuroo stops. This is the first time he’s seen their full length like this; black, limitless things, spread wide and elegant. In the glow of the setting sun he thinks he makes out a different color it that pitch darkness, gold as vibrant as his eyes.

                His wings flutter in the sunlight and he turns to look at Kuroo from over his shoulder. “Don’t follow me.”

                And with that he lifts off into the treetops, strong wings upsetting the dirt and leaves on the ground around him. Even as far away as he is, Kuroo can feel his hair being ruffled by the breeze shifted by those wings.

                Kuroo sighs, but withdraws. There was no way he could chase him anyways, and he wasn’t going to force him to be cordial. He made his way back over to Iwaizumi, who was carving a wooden figure with a small blade. Oikawa returned moments later with a string of dead animals that he shot through the eyes and smiled as he sat down.

                “Here, Iwa-chan, skin these for us,” he said, dropping the hump in front of him.

                Iwaizumi frowned, but put down the block of wood and grabbed one of the rabbits by its foot. “Why do I have to be the one to skin these?”

                “Since you’re such a barbarian, I figured you would enjoy the task,” Oikawa hums, crossing his legs at the ankles as he stretches. “Where’s the spawn of Satan?”

                “Spawn of Wrath,” Iwaizumi corrects him.

                Kuroo sighs, but puts up towards the sky. Oikawa follows his finger and frowns. “And don’t call him that, his name is Kenma.”

                “Are you sure letting him run wild is a good idea?” Oikawa asks, ignoring Kuroo’s admonishment.

                “Nekomata put a lot of safety triggers on his seals. He can’t go very far without me knowing about it. I think he just doesn’t want to be around us.”

                “Oikawa probably gave him a headache with all that humming he was doing,” Iwaizumi says.

                “Hey, I need something to pass the time,” Oikawa defends. “Plus, I have a very beautiful voice.”

                “How about you take lead tomorrow? That way we all might be able to get some peace and quiet,” Iwaizumi says. He finishes skinning one rabbit and moves onto the next one.

                “No way, I won’t be able to talk to anyone if I’m all the way in the front.”

                “That’s the point,” Kuroo says.

                “I’m a great conversationalist,” Oikawa says. He places his hand on his chest and throws back his head to shake his hair back into place. “You should feel honored that I would decide to ease your worries by engaging you in some intellectual discussions.”

                “What intellectual discussions?” Kuroo grins.

                “Maybe it will be a nice break from your usual ape calls you two seem to enjoy throwing around, like the buffoons you are.”

                “The only buffoon here is you, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi mumbles under his breath.

                “Those are not nice words, Iwa-chan. After I went out of the way to catch us some dinner.”

                “Somebody had to do it and I’m sure that if I left you two to set up camp, you’d just spend the time trying to get into each other’s pants,” Kuroo says.

                “Love is pure, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa says.

                “Here, shut up and finish preparing this,” Iwaizumi says, throwing a deskinned rabbit at Oikawa.

                Oikawa screeches, but manages to avoid getting hit in the face by it. “What the hell? That’s so gross!”

                Kuroo laughs where he sits and Oikawa throws him a glare.

                “Oh, you think that’s funny, Tetsu-chan? Let’s see how you like it when I shoved this up your ass,” he says, lunging at Kuroo and knocking them both backwards into the dirt. Kuroo hits the ground with a thump, but he laughs while fending off Oikawa.

 

* * *

 

 

                Kenma really felt like a small child being shown the world for the first time. He didn’t want to show it, but he was utterly amazed. Everything was new to him; every scent fresh in his mind, every hard stone he pressed his bare foot on leaving their imprint, every sound he heard echoing in the trees. He was glad to be out of that moving box. He had already spent too much of his time in closed off places and didn’t want to carry on the trend.

                From where he sat in the trees, feet dangling in the air and wings peacefully relaxed behind him, he could hear his traveling companions. He wasn’t too far away; he had been warned by Nekomata that if he strayed too far then one of his seals would activate, but far enough that he could enjoy everything around him. He took everything in and picked out his favorite things.

                He liked watching the small furry animals scurry on the ground, recalling their names from all of the pictures he was shown growing up. He enjoyed listening to the sound of birds singing around him as the sun set. But his absolute favorite was the way that a gentle breeze would ruffle his feathers and make his wings become more alive.

                For the first time in his life he was able to fly boundlessly. There were no high ceilings here, no walls surrounding him. The sky reached far above him and no matter how much he tried he could not reach its limits. In the distance, he could see small villages, hills, valleys, and maybe the walls of the place he had lived under for all those years. He would never go back there. He would earn his freedom and soar to every inch of this world he knew nothing about. He would be ignorant to its wonders no more.

                He made that vow to himself in that moment and promised he wouldn’t let anyone hold him back from it.

                The sun finally set and Kenma sat up straighter. He was familiar with the darkness, but never had he been greeted by it in this manner. The forest around him seemed to sense it too, because everything around him sat more on edge, more alert for the evils they knew lurked around the corner when the moon’s shadow gave it cover.

                The tree no longer felt that comfortable to be in and Kenma jumps off, spreading his wings to glide slowly down and landed below. He curls his bare toes into the soft dirt and felt the way it shifted under his feet.

                The other three had quieted down ever since they settled into their tents and Kenma quickly made his way over. The horses lifted their heads as he approached, huffing out silently and unearthing the ground beneath their hooves. Up close, they were larger than what he expected and he made sure to stay away from them to not unsettle them.

                 He wandered over to the slow running stream and knelt by its edge. It wasn’t very deep and the water was clear. With the moonlight, he could see the shiny pebbles underneath the water and he reached out his hand, letting the cool water flow around his hand. The pebbles were as cold as the water itself and smooth to the touch. He picked up a handful of pebbles and let them fall back into the stream.

                Kenma sensed something watching him and turned slightly to the side, wary of whatever may be in the distance. There was rustling coming from the bushes and Kenma stayed where he was crouched by the water’s edge. Very slowly a figure emerged. As it became aware of Kenma’s presence it stopped and held up its hands.

                “It’s only me,” he said. “The horses sounded a little agitated and I just came to check on everything.”

                “Kuroo,” Kenma said, in way of acknowledging him.

                “Could you not sleep?” he asked. “Is that why you’re still up?”

                “I’m fine.”

                “Then how about some food? You haven’t eaten since we left this morning.”

                Kenma was hungry and he had no way of providing for himself. Back there they would always prepare and bring him his food. He stood slowly and nodded. He wasn’t an idiot to turn down food when it was being offered. Starving wasn’t going to do anything, but hurt himself.

                Kuroo grinned down at him and Kenma frowned. He didn’t want to see him smiling as if he had finally won something by getting him to agree to eat.

                “Good, follow me.”

                Kenma stayed a couple paces behind him, not wanting to be too close to him. When they reached the middle of the camp, Kuroo took him around the small fire that was still glowing with a few embers.

                “I saved you some because I figured you’d be hungry,” he said, handing him a platter with cooked meat on it. Kenma took it and sat on one of the makeshift benches. Kuroo sat across from him on the ground and leaned against a stump so he could look up at the night sky. “You know, you could have just eaten with us.”

                Kenma hums and takes a bite out of the meat. It wasn’t the best thing he’s ever had, but it would do for the time being.

                “There was something I wanted to do,” he mumbles around a bite of food.

                “What? Explore?” Kuroo asks, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes. He gave him a knowing smile and then turned back to look up at the sky. “I saw you flying a little bit before the sunset. You looked like you were having fun.”

                “I wasn’t really able to fly around locked in a basement for all this time,” he says bitterly.

                Kuroo is silent while Kenma continues to eat, and Kenma thinks that maybe he’ll get a hint and buzz off somewhere else. But then he’s sitting up straighter and looking at Kenma head-on.

                “You know, I had nothing to do with that. Neither did Oikawa or Iwaizumi. It’s terrible and you can be angry, but don’t take it out on us. We’re not bad people.”

                “I don’t need your pity,” Kenma spits. He no longer wants to finishing eating and would rather fly off somewhere than stay with him.

                “Good, because I’m not offering any. I’m trying to be understanding.”

                Kenma laughs and tosses the platter with the half-eaten food down. “I don’t remember asking you to try and understand me. You don’t know anything about me, Kuroo Tetsurou. Just three days ago, you didn’t even know I was living underneath you all this time.”

                “Then let me try. Look, we’re going to be together for a long time, and it’ll all go smoother if we got to know one another better. I’m not asking you to forget everything that happened to you. I’m just asking you to separate that from what’s happening right now. I’m not your enemy and we’re both trying to reach the same goal.”

                “Shut up, I don’t need you telling me what to do,” Kenma hisses. His fists were clenched and his nails were slowly digging into his palms. He didn’t want to get along with this human or any of them. He wanted to be rid of them, to finally go away where no one would look at him with those judging eyes he was so used to.

                “Fine, I can’t force you to play nice and I’m not going to try either,” he says standing up. “You hate us, I get it, humans were the ones who kept you like a pet. They’ve been nothing but cruel to you and you said it yourself; you’d rather kill us all than co-exist. But for the time being, we have to co-exist, no matter how much you hate it. But like I said earlier, not all humans are bad people, and the sooner you realize that the easier it will become to do what you have to do for your own desires.”

                Kuroo leaves him there without looking back. Kenma clenches his fist tightly, feeling blood trickle down his palms. He hated this, hated being told by a human to learn to accept their differences. This wasn’t some sappy road trip for them to all get along and find themselves. He didn’t want to hold hands and sit by the campfire trading stories. He just wanted to be alone, like he was already used to.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Finally, we have something to do around here,” Hinata says as he walks ahead of them. He was currently attempting to balance on a fallen log and was swaying slightly in the air. “I was starting to think we weren’t important enough to be sent out.”

                “Just because they didn’t send us to Shiratorizawa doesn’t mean they think less of us, Hinata-kun.” Suga walks behind him with Akaashi to his side. “And anyways this is just a low-level reconnaissance mission; nothing to get excited about.”

                “Sure it is,” Bokuto says where he’s trotting about behind them. “They’re practically sending us out like spies. Look, we even had to leave the horses at the last village.”

                “That’s because they’ll be able to pick out that we’re from the Church if we come marching in on those big things,” Akaashi says.

                “The mission would be over before it even starts and then they’ll never send us out on cool ones like the other sempais,” Hinata says.

                “Then let’s just do our best and finish this up quickly.”

                With the news of a possible upcoming apocalypse, Suga would be perfectly content if they never received another mission. No missions meant no problems, but his luck was never that good. Now rumors of some sort of civil dispute in the North had sent all four of them traveling. Hopefully it would just be that, some minor dispute that really didn’t even need the four of them to handle, but Suga knew that his luck wasn’t that good at all. He might have had the Fruit of Goodness, but that’s not how their power worked at all.

                Very silently he cursed the system that he lived under. They were granted these Fruits to serve their Gifts, but sometimes life just threw too many lemons. He found that as he got stronger and acquired more, he’d become faced with more. That was the balance in his life, and at least that was constant. But constantly being pushed through trials and tribulations wasn’t always the best thing in the world. If he could have it his way, then they’d all have a nice break and vacation away from everything.

                But the world needed saving, so they would just have to push it back.

                “Look, I can see the village,” Hinata said. He turned around to wait for the rest of them to join him.

                “Alright, we should look for lodging first. I don’t know how long we’ll be here for,” Suga said. Akaashi nodded in agreement.

                “Oh, this is so cool,” Hinata beamed. “It really is like we’re spies.”

                “Not spies, just tourists,” Suga said, waving that idea away. If they went around screaming that they were spies, they would never learn anything.

                “How are we supposed to collect information?” Bokuto asks.

                “By blending in and listening to the villagers,” Suga says. They find a nice inn and book two rooms. The Church gave them a pouch of coins to pay for their expenses, but Suga didn’t know how long they would need to budget for. If everything went well they could be done and back in the Capital in less than a week.

                “If we’re spies then we should probably head to an area with the most people, right?” Hinata asked where he sat on his bed. Suga was putting away his clothes in the drawer supplied for them.

                “Hmm, you’re right. The best place for that in a village like this would probably be the marketplace or some other central gathering place.”

                “Are we going to split up in groups?”

                “Probably, would that be alright with you, Hinata-kun?”

                “Of course! I always learn a lot when I’m with Suga-sempai!”

                Suga chuckles and covers a small smile. Out of all of them, Hinata was the youngest. Suga was used to growing up around younger siblings back at home, so when Hinata first came to the Church he easily took him under his wing. He was an excitable kid and eager to learn. That determination was what brought him on the same level as the other six. Although, he was still the only one with just a singular Fruit, but Suga was sure that in due time, he would evolve his skills.

                A knock came on their door, interrupting any more of his thoughts about his young kohai.

                “Who is it?” Hinata called as he opened the door. “Oh, Bokuto-sempai and Akaashi-sempai are here!”

                “We finished setting up our things so we figured we would come to you,” Akaashi said as he took a seat in one of their chairs.

                Bokuto flops down on Hinata’s made bed and Hinata perches on the edge of it. “Suga was just saying that we should split up and go to crowded areas like the marketplace.”

                “We’d have to be able to blend in well,” Akaashi says.

                “I can cast a spell on my hearing to make it more efficient. If we can find someone with loose lips, then we can gather more information,” Hinata says.

                He was the best out of them in body alteration techniques. He could easily use them to enhance a trait like eyesight or smell and use it to boost his physical attributes like strength and stamina. They were quick and short improvements that didn’t acquire any scrolls nor used up much spiritual energy. Although when it concerned spiritual energy; Hinata, Bokuto, and Kuroo had the most out of the seven of them.

                But even with all that spiritual energy, Hinata had bad control over it and wasted more than he was able to actually use if he didn’t take his time when casting a spell. But if he wasn’t using it for that long then it wouldn’t put that much stress on his body.

                “Alright,” he finally said after coming to a conclusion. “We can head out to the marketplace and while I go schmooze up the villagers I want you to listen out for anybody else. While we’re there, Akaashi and Bokuto, I want you two to head around town to see if anything is up. Start with storefronts and restaurants. That’s the best way to eavesdrop.”

                They all nodded in affirmation and even though Suga was a bit nervous about being put in charge, he was certain he had the best men for the job. They were strong and quick-witted. If the Church was willing to put this into their hands, then he wouldn’t let them down any time soon.

 

* * *

 

                Kuroo was certain that Kenma was blatantly avoiding him ever since that night. They hadn’t spoken to each other unless it was completely necessary and whenever it was Kuroo’s turn to ride in the back of the carriage, Kenma would sit on the roof the whole time. He continued to set up Kenma’s tent, but he continued to not even touch the thing. He didn’t know if he was actually sleeping at night, but he was certain it wasn’t happening while they were on the move. He was too tense around them and even though it has been a couple days, he would still watch them with the expectancy of a wild bear attacking a camp.

                He didn’t even know if it was actually Kenma who ate the food he left out or some wild animal that was able to get into their camp. The vegetables would always go untouched, the meat half eaten, and on the rare times where he was able to scavenge for some berries, those would all be gone. Maybe he had a sweet tooth, so Kuroo made an effort to leave more berries for him. But Kenma never said anything about it and he didn’t ask.

                Today, it was Kuroo’s turn to drive on the lead horse. They had set out at dawn and it was only nearing the middle of the day soon. He would need to find a small place to rest for a while, maybe a place with water so they could refill and cool off.

                “Something’s coming,” came Kenma’s low voice from atop the carriage. Kuroo pulled back the reins on his horse to slow down. He glanced back at Iwaizumi at the perch of the carriage. He was already stopping the horses and looking around for whatever had startled Kenma. “Two… three… no a whole hoard.”

                They were in uncharted territory and the fact that they haven’t encountered one demon or monster was nothing but sheer luck. But they had been prepared just in case if they stumbled upon one, but a whole hoard.

                “Are you sure?” Kuroo asked, looking at Kenma. He didn’t mean to doubt him, but the difference between just one or a whole hoard was lifechanging. “Which direction?”

                Kenma nodded and sat up straighter. His wings moved behind him and he scanned the woods around them. “From the South,” he said.

                Oikawa poked his head out from the back of the carriage, bow and arrows in hand. He climbed up on the perch with Iwaizumi and handed him his dual battle axes. “I can sense them too,” Oikawa said. “They’re coming in fast.”

                “Oikawa guard the horses,” Kuroo calls as he jumps from his horse. He quickly brings it over to the carriage to tie it to the other horses. “We can’t let whatever it is surround us.”

                Iwaizumi joined him on the ground, testing the weight of his battle axes as he spun them around.

                “What should I do?” Kenma asked. He was still on top of the carriage, but this time he was standing up with his wings stretched out wide.

                “Do you have any experience in fighting? If not, just stay up there and out of our way,” Kuroo called over his shoulder and he unstrapped the two daggers buckled on his thighs. He could sense them coming now that they were closer. The ground shook with their arrival and all too soon the first one emerged from the bushes around them.

                “Goblins,” Iwaizumi called as the first one came into contact with him. He swung his axe down, splitting its head open before it could dig its claws into his flesh.

                “Shit,” Kuroo cursed.

                More emerged from the woods and he ran towards them, cutting them down as they jumped, screaming as they reached out long claws to gouge out eyes and rip flesh. He could hear Iwaizumi behind him, grunting as he swung his own weapons, cleaving the small vile creatures in half.

                He felt claws dig into his side and he grit his teeth as he brought his blade down into the chest of a goblin. He kicked it away from him and into another goblin. Before he had time to correct his posture he was slammed down into the ground by two goblins. His arms came up to shield his face from their claws and he was able to elbow one off of him and into the dirt. His other arm pushed the blade of his dagger into the goblin’s throat, slicing it deeply and black blood poured out.

                The goblin he was able to throw off was back on its feet, lunging after Kuroo. He didn’t have enough time to shake the goblin above him off, so he rolled to the side, placing the dead goblin between them. The goblin screeched as it attempted to reach for Kuroo, but he kept it at bay. From the corner of his eye he saw the tip of an arrow flying towards them.

                He rolled in time to move the goblin into place of Oikawa’s arrow and it died with a whine next to him. Oikawa threw him a sly smirk and a peace sign from where he stood at the perch. If he wasn’t in the middle of a fight he would have said something back to the cocky bastard.

                Kuroo regained his footing and cut down the three nearest to him before they had time to get close to the horses. More and more goblins emerged from the bushes and their stamina was beginning to wear down. If they didn’t finish this soon then they would be in for some trouble.

                “Fuck,” he hissed as his knee buckled underneath him. He had been cut on one of his legs and the wound bled as he moved, but he would have to treat it afterwards. He held off the goblin in front of him and buried his blade into its gut with a shout.

                Just before he could be overwhelmed with more goblins approaching him a bright light flashed in the air. He rolled back in time to see a bolt of lightning fry the goblins in front of them. They collapsed in a heap of ashes and he could smell their burning flesh as it wafted in the air.

                Everyone and everything seemed to pause at that moment and collectively look at Kenma floating in the sky. His horns glowed where the gold wrapped around them and his eyes mirrored the shine. His hands were held outstretched in front of him and smoke was coming off of them.

                “I might not have a lot of experience, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit around and do nothing,” he said. He sent out another bolt of lightning and this time it incinerated the goblins that were closer to Iwaizumi.

                “Let’s finish them off here,” Kuroo yelled, not wasting the goblin’s momentary distraction.

                Oikawa and Iwaizumi yelled in triumph and moved to continue attacking.

                Soon, they were able to finish off the hoard of goblins, some ran away as their numbers dwindled, but they didn’t give chase to them, too exhausted from the drawn-out battle. Goblins weren’t the hardest things to fight. They were low level demons, but their sheer numbers could bring down even the best fighters. They had no real intellect, moving mostly on instinct, so not much skill was required to take them down. This deep in the woods, their numbers were plentiful and if more would had joined the hoard then they would be pushed into a pinch.

                Kuroo sat where he was on the blood-soaked ground and huffed out a breath. He heard footsteps and turned to face Oikawa.

                “Let me heal you,” he said. Kuroo nodded and watched as Oikawa hovered his hands over Kuroo’s body. He felt the cold press of the healing energy touch his skin and the pull of his wounds being knitted back together. He flexed his knee and only felt a mild stiffness that would be gone in a day’s time. “I thought you said Nekomata had put a lot of safeties on his seals,” he mumbled leaning in closer.

                “Maybe they must have worn down over time,” he says.

                “Or,” Oikawa says, helping him up on his feet, “maybe, he’s just playing us like fools and he’s stronger than what he really lets on.”

                Kuroo chuckles and leans on Oikawa for support. “Whatever the reason, there’s not much we can do. If he wanted to kill us he would have already.”

                Oikawa huffs, but leaves him alone. Iwaizumi was already piling the fallen goblins up in a makeshift fire pit. “We should burn the bodies,” Iwaizumi says.

                “Why?” Kenma had returned to his spot crouching on the roof of the carriage. His wings were folded behind him and Kuroo could see sweat rolling down his temples. He was breathing hard and his skin was pale in the evening sun. Maybe using his powers had took more out of him than they all thought. Overcoming the seals Nekomata put in place must have been no easy task, and the two bolts were all he was able to conjure up in the short period of time.

                “Dead goblins will attract other creatures to come sniff around. If we weren’t so close to the trail then we wouldn’t bother, but we don’t want some other travels getting attacked because we left them here,” Kuroo says.

                As he approaches the carriage he runs his eyes over Kenma’s form to assess the rest of the damage. His eyes stop at his hands resting on his knees. The skin there was tender and red, as if he had put them in boiling hot water.

                “Did you get that from using your powers?” he asks, pointing at them.

                Kenma seems to finally take note of them and lifts them up with a startled expression. “Oh,” he says. “That was the first time I did that. I didn’t know what to expect.”

                “You should let Oikawa heal them,” Kuroo offers. “He’s really good at healing.”

                Kenma puts his hands back down to his knees and looks away. “No, they’ll heal on their own.”

                Kuroo frowns. “Won’t that be uncomfortable? You should just let him heal you. You helped us, let us help you,” he says.

                Kenma scrunches up his nose and glares down at Kuroo. “I didn’t help you because I wanted to. You’re no use to me if you all die.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” he says waving it away. “And you’re no use to us if your hands are all burnt up.”

                “Then it looks like you’re screwed,” he mumbles. Kuroo snorts and Kenma throws him another glare. He stands and dusts of his pants. “If you’re just going to bother me then leave.”

                “Wait!” Kuroo calls before he can make his infamous quick getaway and fly off somewhere. “At least let me give you some herbs that could help with the pain. You can do it yourself, all you have to do is use water to make a paste and rub it on your skin.”

                Kenma seems to weigh his options before finally nodding. Kuroo grins and makes his way into the carriage, quickly digging into his things before Kenma could change his mind and leave. When he comes back outside he’s happy to see that Kenma was still waiting for him.

                “Here,” he says, handing him a pouch of wrapped herbs. “Use as much as you need.”

                “Fine,” he says taking the pouch and sliding it into the fold of his clothes. He stares down at Kuroo and says, “This makes us even. For today and for the food you’ve been leaving out for me.”

                Kuroo smiles. So, he was getting the food he left him. “Of course,” he says.

                “And stop looking at me like that.”

                “Like what?”

                “Like you’re enjoying this.”

                Kuroo tilts his head and grins up at Kenma. “What if I am?”

                Kenma scrunches up his nose and turns. This time leaving with his signature flutter of black wings and burst of wind into the air.

                “Kuroo!” Oikawa calls. “If you’re done being pathetic then come help us!”

                “Shut up, asshole!” he says, turning around and jogging to where Iwaizumi and him stood.

 

* * *

 

                Bokuto wasn’t a pro at espionage, but he knew enough that he could easily pick out the important parts of a conversation. In the two days since they’ve arrived, he deemed the shopkeeper of a small linen shop as being important. Many different people would come visit him, low class nobles and officials of the village to simple farmers and blacksmiths.

                While Akaashi went to check for any demonic activity in the village, he sat upon the roof, pressed low into the crevices of it as he listened to the voices filter up to meet him. They talked a lot about stuff not pertaining to linen, such as the state of their nation and gathering places. Bokuto picked up on coded words and hidden messages, things that prying ears would not be able to discern easily.

                He had picked up on enough information that he was certain some sort of coup d’état was being planned.  The commoners were tired of the Church’s control over the nation, blaming them for what had happened in the East and saying that they were often too slow to act and took too much in taxes. He had to grit his teeth the whole time, if he were to defend the Church then his cover would be blown.

                When night came and the shopkeeper closed his doors, Bokuto slipped away and back to the inn they were staying at. He stormed into Suga’s room, where the rest of them had already gathered. Akaashi and Suga jumped when Bokuto slammed open the door, but he didn’t think to apologize.

                “We need to do something about this,” he pleaded.

                “Bokuto, we were only sent here to collect information. We should report back to the Church now that we’ve collected enough,” Suga said.

                “We don’t have the time for that. By the time the Church acts it may already be too late. We can’t have a repeat of 13 years ago, last time many Hunters and citizens died,” he said. He clenched his fist tightly to his side.

                He was young at the time, but he could still feel the impact of it to this day. Hunters weren’t supposed to kill villagers, they were supposed to protect them from demons and powers they were vulnerable to. Back then there was no helping it, he understood that now; but even so, if he could stop it before it escalated too far then he would.

                “There may be a chance that this is demon related,” Akaashi spoke. “It might not be the villagers themselves, but it could be from the influence of outside forces.”

                “Did you feel anything?” Suga asks.

                Akaashi nods. “Yes, just something faint. I felt it around some of the shops and a bit in the woods, but I haven’t been able to locate the source yet.”

                “Then that’s good, right?” Bokuto asks. “If it’s just simple possession then all we have to do is exorcise the demons and its influence over the villager should go away.”

                “It’s not that easy, Bokuto-san. We have to find the demon first and what if there’s more than one,” Akaashi says.

                “Then we just exorcise them all,” he says confidentially.

                Suga snorts. “We can’t just exorcise all the villagers.”

                “But we can lure the demon out,” Hinata says.

                “What are you talking about?” Suga asks.

                “If the demon is really trying to go against the Church, then wouldn’t they want to set some sort of example? We give them something they couldn’t pass up and wait for them to take the bait.”

                “And what could they possibly want that bad?”

                “A Hunter,” Bokuto and Hinata say at the same time.

                Akaashi frowns at their loud outburst. “You’re suggesting one of us becomes bait for a couple of angry villagers that have demons whispering in their ears?”

                “No, I’m suggesting that I become bait for a couple angry villagers,” Hinata corrects.

                “Hinata-kun, we couldn’t possibly allow you to be put in such a dangerous position,” Suga says.

                “Why not? All you guys have to do is make sure I’m alright in the end.”

                “If anyone can handle it, it’s him. His Gift is Fortitude isn’t it? Plus, little shrimpy is pretty resilient,” Bokuto says. He’s confident that Hinata would be able to get through almost anything with just a little determination and trust in his comrades. “If we do this right then nobody has to get hurt.”

                Suga sighs. “Fine, this wasn’t what we were sent to do, but you’re right. If we can stop this before someone really gets hurt, then I don’t see why the Church would get angry.”

                “Yes,” Hinata says, jumping up and high-fiving Bokuto.

                “Don’t worry, Sugawara-san,” Akaashi says. “The Church wouldn’t have sent us if they didn’t think we could handle it.”

                “Ah, you’re right,” Suga says while rubbing the back of his neck.

                This time, Bokuto wouldn’t be too young to do anything. He was older, stronger, and had friends who wanted the same thing as him. He might not be able to bring the dead back from the grave, but at least he could prevent more from going there.

 

* * *

 

                “Teach me how to hunt,” a voice said behind him.

                Oikawa paused where he was bent down washing out his clothes in the stream. He hadn’t felt him approach and was more caught off guard at the fact that he was speaking to him. The only time he saw Kenma speak was when he was with Kuroo and even then, it didn’t look like Kenma deemed it friendly or warranted.

                He wrung out his blouse and hooked it over a tree branch. Kenma stood at the base of the tree, arms crossed and staring intently at him.

                “Uh, why?” he asked.

                “Because you’re the one who always hunts the food, correct? Teach me how and this way I can get my own from now on,” Kenma told him. He probably had practiced this a couple times in his head by how automatic his reply came.

                Oikawa sneered and placed his hands on his hips. “Now why would I do that? Isn’t it better for me if I have you indebted to me?”

                Kenma’s eyes narrowed at Oikawa’s words. “What do you want then?”

                “Who says I want anything?” Oikawa teases. He was having a good time seeing the small Nephilim get flustered by him, but he also had half a mind not to push it too far.

                “Then teach me how to hunt like I asked,” Kenma grit out between clenched teeth.

                “Fine, but you owe me a favor. One that I can call upon at any time for any reason, no questions asked and no arguments, deal?”

                Kenma frowned, but relented. “Deal.”

                “Perfect, Ken-chan,” Oikawa said cheerfully. He had no real motive for making Kenma owe him, but the notion of having friends in high places wasn’t a bad one either. Maybe he’ll just make him do some petty task and be done with it, but for the time being, he would keep the favor in hand.

                “Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

                “If I’m teaching you how to hunt then you’re getting an embarrassing nickname,” Oikawa says. “Here, we’ll start with laying out a few traps to catch small animals.”

                He gathered his supplies and led him deeper into the woods.

                “The easiest types of snare to use is the free-standing snare,” Oikawa said. He had followed a short rabbit trail of beaten earth and decided to stop there. “It doesn’t require much and as long as its placed in a strategic spot then you should come up with something.”

                He took out the wire he was carrying and unrolled a long strand of it. He cut Kenma a similar length of wire and handed it to him so he could practice while he listened to Oikawa instruct him.

                “Snares take patience so I usually just forfeit them when I’m in a rush, but it’s essential to learning the basics of hunting. You have to get a feel for what you’re after. Snares allow you to become familiar with that animal and learn their habits.”

                He makes a loop around his finger with the wire and wraps the excess wire around itself to secure the loop.

                “It’s better to set up multiple snares instead of just relying on one. That way you can maximize your yield at the end of the day.”

                He takes the opposite end of the wire and pulls it through the slipknot he made to form a large circle. He keeps pulling it through until the size of the circle is just a little smaller than one of his fists. He sets the wire down and pulls out a small metal stake with a hole at the top. He feeds the rest of the line through the hole and wraps it around the post.

                “When you’re arranging your snare, make sure it is lifted off the ground at a reasonable height. If it’s too low, then it’ll get trampled over and if it’s too high, then it’ll miss the rabbit all together.”

                 Oikawa tugs on the wire to test how secure it was in the stake. When it doesn’t budge, he takes out a hammer and positions the stake in an upright position before driving it into the ground a few inches.

                “See, simple, huh?”

                Kenma nods and crouches down to survey Oikawa’s work. He runs small hands over the wires and tests its stability with short tugs of his own. He looks genuinely interested in it and absorbs every detail, no matter how small.

                After a while he creates his own snare. It’s a little sloppy and disproportioned, but for a first attempt, Oikawa is amazed at his ability to mimic his own work. Kenma decides to set the stake a little further up the path than Oikawa’s.

                “Make enough of these to catch something and I’ll teach you how to use a bow,” Oikawa calls after him.

                Kenma doesn’t turn to reply, but he’s sure he heard him.

                Oikawa leaves him there and turns to go back to camp. For all the distance Kenma put between them, he knew that he must be a tad interested in them. If he paid enough attention he could catch the way Kenma might move his feathers when they joked around, or how he would shuffle his feet in the ground as they made camp, always sitting at just the edge of them, but not daring to come any closer.

                Kenma reminded him of the wild animals of his childhood. Wild, exotic creatures that would pace in their cage and always stayed in the furthest corner of it. He’s seen countless beasts this way, dragged and shackled until it was their time to go the same way as the animal who occupied the cage before them. They were right for feeling threatened in those cages. If Kenma still saw himself as a caged animal, then he would keep his distance for as long as possible.

                Oikawa had left that village long ago. He and Iwaizumi had vowed to never turn back that night, and ever since then he’s been moving forward. He had no wisdom or comforting words to tell those animals all those nights ago. And even now, wisdom escapes him. He was still far off from where he wanted to be.

                “Oi,” Iwaizumi called from the outside of their tent. “Where were you, Shittykawa?”

                He wasn’t where he wanted to be, but it still was a good place to be at, he decided as he grinned.

                “I was just lending a helping hand and blessing the world with good deeds,” he proclaimed.

                “If that’s the case then go apologize to the world,” Kuroo calls over to him. He was removing the horses’ saddles for the night.

                “Somebody thinks I’m helpful.”

                “Yeah? Who?” Iwaizumi asks. He was sharpening his axes, but had stopped when Oikawa returned.

                “Little Ken-chan,” he bragged.

                “Eh? What makes you think that?” Kuroo asks.

                “He asked me to teach him how to hunt,” he announces with a sly smirk.

                Iwaizumi frowns. “Why would he want to do that?”

                “Maybe because he doesn’t want to depend on us more than he has to,” Kuroo surmises. “He’s made it pretty clear that he wants to keep his distance from us.”

                “No, I mean, why would he ask him out of all people?” Iwaizumi says, pointing his axe towards a baffled Oikawa.

                “Hey! I’m an excellent person to learn from,” he defends. “He can’t ask you, because you have no tact and lack the proper knowledge to teach anyone anything. And I’m pretty sure he hates Tetsu-chan the most out of all of us.”

                “That’s not true. Why would you think that?” Kuroo says.

                “Because each time he’s finished talking to you, he always ends up flying off somewhere,” he points out.

                Kuroo frowns but then sighs and removes the last saddle. “It’s not like I’m doing anything to make him particularly dislike me.”

                “It’s because of that stupid expression you always have on,” Oikawa states.

                “What expression?”

                “Like you’re the cat who ate the canary,” Iwaizumi clarifies.

                “I don’t look that way,” Kuroo says.

                Oikawa laughs, because now it was Kuroo who was the one pouting. “See, even Iwa-chan sees it.”

                “That doesn’t mean you’re any better, Shittykawa. You both spend most of your time sitting around with those smug expressions on.”

                “If that’s the case then why didn’t Ken-chan ask you, huh? Maybe because you always look like you’re constipated.”

                “Shut up, you have a filthy mouth,” he mutters.

                Oikawa grips his arm and leans in close with a seductive glint in his eye. “But I thought Iwa-chan liked my filthy mouth?”

                “Hey, take that somewhere else!” Kuroo calls after them.

                Oikawa chuckles, but waves him off with one hand as he leads Iwaizumi back into their tent.

 

_You know the truth can be a weapon_

_To fight this world of ill intentions_

_A new answer to the same question_

_How many times will you learn the same lesson?_

_-Welshly Arms_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some trouble writing out the Kuroken interactions, I wanted them to be perfect and exactly how I imagined it in this AU; and I'm not 100% satisfied with it. Don't forget to listen to the music to get a better feel of the fic!!!


	3. Through The Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The nation where the Church of Apostles is located is called Angkor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I sacrificed uploading this chapter at the beginning of the month in favor of studying for finals. The outcome? I made Dean's List, so it all works out. For those who still have to face the battle of finals, Goodluck! And for those who already finished theirs, rest up!  
> Enjoy!

_Well I came upon a man at the top of a hill,_

_call himself the savior of the human race._

_Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain,_

_but I said how can you save the world from itself._

_-Shawn James_

                The snares were easy. Kenma could handle a little wire and a bit of waiting around. There wasn’t much skill needed for the task and as long as he focused on placement, he would almost always end up with something. Sure, there were times when he would catch something that wasn’t exactly a rabbit, but Oikawa had reassured him that when cooked, he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Half the time he didn’t know if what Oikawa said was true or not, but for the time being, he had taught him how to set snares, skin and prepare what he caught, and build a fire.

                Using a bow was a different thing. It in itself wasn’t a very hard skill to get the hang of. He had a steady hand and a good eye, but what he could not control was the wind. This wouldn’t have been a problem if his wings didn’t pick up even the slightest of breezes. Just a faint breeze would move him off center and he would miss his mark. He’d have to wait until the wind died down, and sometimes that would take too long and the animal he was tracking would scamper away.

                Every chance he could get, he would practice. He didn’t like to do it and if he had it his way he would have just quit and continued to let Oikawa hunt his food for him. But he didn’t want to rely on any of them more than he had to. With due diligence, he was able to come up with a system. Spreading his wings out to feel the world around him, fluttering as the wind rustled the tree leaves. When he felt the world begin to rest during the soft inhale before the next burst of breath, he would tuck his wings back behind him and shoot, hitting his target perfectly.

                “You’ve been learning quite quickly, kitten.”

                Kenma frowned at the sudden voice and turned to face the man who watched him from the shadows of the trees. He was leaning against a tree, smug smirk plastered on his face and chewing on what looked like long grass. Kenma regrips the bow and brings it up so he was now aiming directly at Kuroo.

                “Maybe I should test my skills then,” he says calmly. Kuroo’s smile only grew wider and Kenma fought back every urge to just let the arrow fly now and be done with him altogether. He still didn’t know the limits of the seals placed on him and what would happen if he were to kill Nekomata’s apprentice.

                “You could do that,” he says shrugging nonchalantly, “but then you’ll never know what this is.” He motions towards the long grass he was just previously chewing on and Kenma narrows his eyes.

                “What is it?” Kenma asks. From where he stands it looks just like the grass that grew around them, maybe a little longer with a different shaped end.

                “Barley grass,” Kuroo says.

                “I figured it was grass. I have no interest in eating like livestock. Maybe I should just shoot if you have nothing of value to offer me,” he says between clenched teeth.

                Kuroo chuckles and shakes his head. He takes another bite of the grass and stalks toward Kenma. Kenma raises the bow again to adjust his aim and watches the man.

                “It’s not just grass. This is a strand of barley grass that grows in the wild. It has very good nutritional properties and can be acquired easily.”

                “Grass,” Kenma states. “Why are you telling me this?”

                “Well, for one, you can’t just live off of meat like a caveman and—”

                “Watch me,” Kenma snaps.

                “And two, if you’re learning how to be more self-sufficient then you would need to also know how to scavenge for fruits, berries, nuts, and plant life. I’ve come to offer my services.”

                “I can figure it out myself,” he says. “It can’t be that hard finding a few berries here and there.”

                “You’re right. I’m sure you’re learning firsthand how the woods are full of miraculous things, but do you know how many of those things you can actually eat? The woods are plentiful and so are the number of things in it that would kill you in an instant.”

                Kenma frowns. He had read about poisonous plants and how some may look similar to their edible counterparts. He was put into a tough spot and he didn’t like it. There were some nights where he wasn’t lucky enough to catch any rabbits in his snares, or the wind blew too hard for him to steady his bow. Having such a narrow scope of resources wouldn’t benefit him in the long run.

                “You want to make a deal? Fine, name your price,” he says, finally lowering the bow and allowing his wings to settle behind him.

                Kuroo grins. “I don’t want to make a deal.”

                Kenma sighs exasperatedly. “Then I don’t understand your motive for coming here. Stop wasting my time. If you won’t teach me then I’ll just learn from someone else.”

                Kuroo laughs and Kenma gets the urge to snap his neck to shut him up for good. “I never said I wouldn’t teach you.”

                “You are the most—”

                “It’s just that I don’t want anything in return. No deals, no bargains; just let me teach you.”

                “I don’t see how you benefit from this in any way,” Kenma mutters, eyes narrowed as he scans over Kuroo. He didn’t know what angle he was playing at, but he wouldn’t let his guard down just yet.

                “You’re right. I’m not benefiting from this. That’s the point.”

                “Whatever,” he says. He didn’t care for his motives anymore, when the time came that Kuroo sprang his condition on him, he would be prepared for it. For the time being he would learn all that he could from him.

                “Lesson number one,” he says, stopping just outside of Kenma’s personal space. “This is barley grass, rich in nutrients and easy to find.”

                “I already got that,” Kenma huffs.

                “Lesson two, if you’re desperate enough, almost anything could and would do, it just won’t be very appetizing.”

                Kuroo begins to walk off and Kenma follows, making sure to flank his side and not walk directly behind him. He leads Kenma into a little grove. After a while of surveying the area, he decides to squat next to a particular bundle of plants with dark green leaves and prickly burrs. He digs quietly, uprooting the plant and pulling out a root that was noticeably thicker than the rest growing off of it. He also pinches off a few of the leaves and turns to face Kenma.

                “This is burdock. It’s an edible root that you can easily boil or eat raw if you need to. You want to go for the taproot, which looks like this,” he says holding up the thick root. “The best way to distinguish them are by the prickly burrs that grow on the top or the leaves, which feel kind of like wool on the underside.”

                He hands the leaves over to Kenma and he runs his fingers over the underside, noting its texture.

                “It also has some purifying agents if used as a medicinal herb.”

                “What else?”

                “What else do you want to learn,” he says, standing up and wiping the dirt off on his brown trousers.

                “Show me where I can find sweet fruit,” Kenma says without hesitation.

                It wasn’t often that they gave him anything sweet back in that room, but on rare occasions he would get pieces of fruit along with his meals. In the beginning when it was Kuroo who left food for him, he would eat the sweet berries first. But ever since he had started hunting for his own food, he was denied that luxury.

                “Oh, so you did enjoy the berries I left you, huh?” He scratches the back of his head and sighs. “Yeah, I guess I could show you some things you might like.”

                With the rest of the setting sun, Kuroo leads Kenma around the woods. He stops occasionally to point out different fruit and details about where to look for them. He also picks a few so Kenma could try them on his own time and decide what he likes best. As it gets darker, Kenma has to focus on his silhouette to not lose him.

                “Hey, can I ask you something?” Kuroo says into the night air.

                “You already did,” Kenma mumbles.

                “Be serious for a second with me, Kenma.” He stops abruptly and turns to face him. Now with the moon shining on him in this way, Kenma can make out all of his features. Kenma stops and faces him, glad that the moon is behind him, hiding his own expression.

                “Go ahead,” he mumbles.

                “What was it like?” he asks. His expression is pensive as he waits for Kenma to reply.

                “What was what like?” he mutters, turning to hide his face behind a curtain of hair, even though Kuroo was probably having a hard time seeing him in the first place.

                “You know what I mean.”

                Kenma scoffs and crosses his arms. “I thought you said you didn’t want anything in return for your help.”

                “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to.”

                “Then I won’t,” Kenma says.

                Kuroo’s expression doesn’t change, but he gives a small nod and turns to lead them silently back to the camp.

 

* * *

 

                Nervous, Suga was unbelievably nervous about everything. First, he was nervous about the whole plan of using Hinata as live bait to fish out the demon mastermind. He was also nervous about the fact that Hinata had to leave and travel alone to the next village over to retrieve his horse. But he was the most nervous when Hinata returned the next day, riding atop a Church issued horse and wearing the standard uniform that most Hunters wore when out on duty. With the padded _hakama_ and _jinbaori_ decorated with his Gift’s colors and the Church’s crest, there would be no question that he was Hunter.

                Suga had to admit, he was the perfect bait. Small enough to be underestimated by the villagers and alone so there would be no fear of reinforcements. All they had to do was watch and wait. While Hinata went around the village, greeting the people and smiling diplomatically all the while stopping at shops flagged as being coup sympathizers to practically announce his vulnerability, the others waited in the shadows, looking out for any movement. If they weren’t careful then Hinata could disappear right from underneath their noses.

                That would be devastating. Hinata, gone without a trace and no lead to follow. They would probably find out what happened to him when it was too late. Suga wasn’t going to let that happen. Never again would he allow someone to get hurt due to his own incompetence. He was stronger now, and he had comrades who also wished for Hinata’s safety. So, they would easily eliminate the threat and be back on their way to the Capital.

                “This seems like it’s going to take forever,” Bokuto whispered one night when it was their turn to watch the inn Hinata was staying at.

                “Well, no action is good action,” Suga mused.

                “What if they never come for him?”

                “They would be idiots to pass this up.”

                The night carried on just the same with light conversation between the two and Suga was just about to mark this down as another night of no progress when he caught sight of two men straining to subdue a certain unruly orange haired man.

                “Bokuto,” Suga practically hissed in the night air.

                Bokuto snapped to attention, eyes locking on the scene unfurling in front of them. Bokuto had brought the standard katana given to him by the Church and his hands clenched the hilt as his body tensed.

                “Should we stop them?”

                “No,” Suga shook his head. Just fishing them out wasn’t enough to end everything. If they stopped them here and if there were others, then they would be notified of their involvement and it would become harder to weed them out. “Go and get Akaashi. I’ll follow them to their hideout. Take this scroll, it should lead you to me.”

                He quickly hands Bokuto a marked scroll and he nods before disappearing into the night. Suga leaned further over the ledge of the roof he was hiding on as he watched them bind Hinata and gag him. He could only hope that his friend was faring well and trusted in his friends to rescue him. When he was completely incapacitated, they tossed in onto the back of a small man-pulled wagon.

                He scaled rooftops and walls as he followed the wagon from a safe distance. He didn’t want to risk them noticing his presence or losing them in the night’s cover. When the wagon was pulled from the village limits and into the dark forests, Suga had to switch to the treetops in order to follow along. It was grueling work, scaling and quick movements wasn’t his specialty, but he was able to keep up with them.

                As the sun began to rise the wagon slowed down. They were still in the forest, but were approaching stony hills. Suga could feel the demonic aura thick in the air as he settled into the treetops to watch. One of the men slung Hinata over his shoulders as if he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. They exchanged some words that Suga couldn’t make out before turning to enter what looked like an abandoned mine.

                Suga wanted to keep going, to follow them into the dark mine and keep an eye on Hinata, but he knew he would easily be caught in those narrow tunnels. He had no choice, but to wait for Bokuto and Akaashi to follow him there. It felt like hours before he felt them approaching from behind. He dropped down from the trees to greet them.

                Bokuto had his katana already drawn, sharp metal glinting in the rising sunlight. Akaashi was also armed, his spear positioned underneath his armpit.

                “They took him into the mine,” Suga said.

                “Do you know how many there is?” Bokuto asked.

                Suga shook his head. “No, I can’t get a sense of just how many, so we should be prepared for anything,” he said, pulling out scrolls from the folds of his clothing. “I’ll take the lead.”

                 He approached the dark mine’s entrance, muttering a small spell into one of his scrolls and it illuminated like a small beacon. He scanned the entrance, there were no spells or traps to prevent them from entering. The coast looked clear and he couldn’t sense anyone approaching them.

                “Alright,” he said, stepping into the mine.

                The mine was fairly damp and humid. In the dim light that Suga was able to provide, he could see water dripping down the walls. They continued, going deeper into the mine’s turning and curving walls.

                “Stop,” Suga whispered. He crouched down and the two behind him tensed. “I think I can hear something.”

                He strained his ears, trying to make out something other than the incessant drip of water on the floor around them. Very faintly he could make out voices, talking in hushed manners. They were getting closer. Just ahead they might be faced with who knows how many demons.

                He signaled for Bokuto and Akaashi to get ready. He let the scroll’s light fade away and used the walls around him to feel out the direction they needed to go. As they got closer, he was able to see a soft glow from up ahead. He tried to feel how many demons they were about to face ahead, but they were all together in such tight proximity that getting an individual read on them was near impossible.

                He inched over the edge and peered into what seemed like a large circular clearing that led off into different paths. In the middle, he could make out an unconscious Hinata, surrounded by a group of figures.

                “I’m going to set a barrier to block their exits,” he says while pulling out a couple scrolls. “We need to quickly exorcism them. Akaashi, you’re going to have to link with me. Bokuto, I want you to go after Hinata while we exorcise the demons from their human hosts.”

                They both whisper back affirmatives and Suga can feel the tug on his spiritual energy as Akaashi attempts to link with him. He closes his eyes and allows the probing sensation to wash over him. In the back of his mind he can see the two strands made up of energy from their shared Fruit of Self-control weaving together in a tight braid. When the feeling fades away he opens his eyes and stands up.

                “Wait until I set the barrier to begin,” he says.

                The scrolls begin to warm in his hands and the drawn-on markings on them glows faintly. He mutters a sealing incantation and throws them out toward the clearing. There’s a flash of light that leaves the inhabitants of the mine dazed and confused and by the time the light fades away, all the entrances to the different tunnels were sealed off by his barrier.

                “Now,” he shouts.

                He sees Bokuto move from the corner of his eye, approaching Hinata quickly while Suga and Akaashi recite a demon exorcism. Power swells up before them and just in time, Bokuto makes contact with Hinata and is yanking him away as a massive ball of energy is propelled towards the gathered demons. They scream and the humans they were possessing crumble before them, unconscious.

                Black swirls of fog were ejected from their human hosts and begin to materialize into their own demonic forms. Higher or middle level demons don’t look much different than humans when it comes to anatomy, but they have skin that looks like it’s been coated in sot and red glowing eyes. Sometimes they would have horns or even long spindly tails with jagged ends. These ones were deformed bodies bent at odd angles with red eyes that glowed with rage and sharp teeth that wanted to rip flesh.

                Bokuto returns to them with a limp Hinata in his hands. He crouches down behind them and slowly lowers Hinata to the ground.

                “They must have given him something to knock him out,” he says.

                “That’s fine. For now, we need to focus on eliminating these demons. If we can, maybe we can question one of them. I’ll provide back up, we can’t let any of them escape.”

                “I’ll flank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, removing his spear from under his arm and disengaging it so it reverts into its three-part staff form. “Focus on slashing down the ones in front of you. I won’t let anyone get near you.”

                Bokuto grins and positions his katana in front of him as they prepare to face the group of demons just ahead of them.

 

* * *

 

 

                Kenma didn’t remember falling asleep. He tended to spend the nights awake and watching the world, only allowing himself a few moments of rest, but multiple days of being constantly on guard were weighing down on him. The cool breeze was comfortable on his face and he was nestled in a small dip where the tree branched off.

                He was brought to a place similar to the woods he had currently spent days traversing in. Tall trees blocking out the sky, that he wasn’t even sure if it was night or day in his dream. He walked silently, nothing disrupting him as if he were the only person in the woods. But he knew that wasn’t the case. He could feel eyes on him, watching his every move intently.

                After a while of walking around, he was aware of that fact that he was being led by some invisible force. Slowly, it guided him deeper into the woods to where it wanted him to be. He emerged into a clearing and stopped. This was just like his nightmares all those nights ago, back when he was still in the Church.

                He felt the eyes on him grow intense, waiting for him to act. He could see a still form in the grass, no more than a large blob underneath the trees’ shadows. He risked a couple steps closer until he could see the form shift as a head was lifted off the ground by its long neck. Black eyes stared back at Kenma as he stood frozen at the edge of the clearing. This time, he didn’t try to run away. He clenched his fists and took another step closer to the beast.

                The horse was still, eyes tracking Kenma’s movements as he slowly approached it. As he got closer he was able to make out the horse’s chestnut red coat and brown mane. This horse wasn’t adorned with jewels as the first white horse, but it was equally as beautiful. Instead of a bow, Kenma could see the metal of a sword glinting in the shadows next to the horse.

                “Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

                The horse huffs and paws at the ground with his front hoof, but gives no other reply to him. Kenma pursed his lips. He didn’t speak horse, nor did he ever have any experience with them. He makes a point to avoid the three horses they use to travel. If the horse was trying to tell him something, it was completely lost to him. Trying to glean information out of the horse seemed like a fruitless attempt.

                He could still feel those eyes on him, watching him from some faraway place. He didn’t know in which direction they watched him from. Their presence was all around him as he turned in a circle, trying to identify their location.

                “Who are you?” he calls into the void. He knew they were watching him, maybe they could hear him as well. “Why do you keep showing me this?”

                The air around him stirs and a strong gust of wind whips towards him. He brings up one wing to block the wind as best as he can while standing his ground. He feels something approach him, but when he turns there is nothing there. The eyes that were watching him feel closer and goosebumps arise on his skin.

                “Answer me,” he says through clenched teeth. He didn’t like the feeling of being toyed with in this manner.

                The wind brushes against him again and he lowers his wing from around himself. He turns again, to face the horse, but finds himself alone in the clearing. All traces of the horse and the sword gone from where it was moments ago. Instead, if he focuses hard enough, he sees what could only be a shadow. It was formless, not really giving rise to a distinct shape, but also staying vaguely humanoid.

                The shadow watches him.

                “Why are you showing me this?” he asks again. The shadow seems to shift as if it were made up of unstable energy and was barely keeping itself together.

                _“Come to me,”_ it says.

                A lone appendage lifts up from its core and reaches toward Kenma. Something dark and foreboding fills Kenma and he takes a step back away from it. He doesn’t know what would happen if he allowed it to get any closer to him and he didn’t want to find out. The shadow stops its advances towards Kenma and the lone shadow tendril fades away into nothing.

                _“In time, you will understand,”_ it says with finality before completely disappearing before him. The dream space around him fades as well and he slowly comes back to his senses.

                He doesn’t wake with the sudden bout of rage like the last time, but his skin crawls with an underlying uncertainty. If it was like last time, then he would still have some time before the horse would appear to him, slain. He scrunches his nose and shakes the feeling out of his head. He wouldn’t become slave to simple nightmares, not when he goal was to gain his own freedom.

                He stood from his spot in the trees and stretched out his wings. The sun was just barely beginning to rise and greet the world, and he could hear movement from his travelling companion’s camp as they too rose. It wouldn’t be too long before they set off to travel again. How many days has it been since he left those walls? Less than a week, and they still haven’t reached their destination. Although he was enjoying his time out in the open, he knew that all of this was only temporary until he completed his part of the blood oath with Nekomata.

                He began gathering his things. He didn’t have much. He left with the clothes on his back, but Nekomata had prepared a small satchel with a couple pairs of the _samue_ he was used to wearing. Through the days, he acquired a few things: the flask from Kuroo on their first day, a makeshift quiver he learned to make from Oikawa, a bow and a couple arrows, a roll of wire, and a couple other things. It wasn’t much, but he liked being responsible for his own things. He was no longer in the basement where meals and clean clothes were given to him through a small window in the wall, and he was grateful for it.

                When he was done, he descended the tree and made his way over to where the others were finishing up. Oikawa sat lazily at the perch of the carriage while the other two were readying the horses. Kenma hadn’t spent much time around the other one; Iwaizumi, he learned his name was from Oikawa, but he was much quieter than Kuroo or Oikawa. He would acknowledge Kenma with a simple nod and then they would be on their way, nothing more and nothing less.

                He gave him the same nod as he always does and went over to mount the lead horse. Oikawa gave him a cherry ‘ _good morning_ , _Ken-chan’_ and sat up to grab the reins. He climbed into the back of the carriage and sat down on his usual pile of blankets. He settles into them comfortably and wraps his wings around himself. The mornings and nights out in the woods are a bit chilly, but he has been able to fend off the cold with his thick feathers that easily curl around him. In the future, he may have to invest in some quilts or thicker clothes.

                The back of the carriage is opened to allow Kuroo to slip inside. He takes up his usual spot at the front and secures a couple of their things in the chests lining the walls. “We should be arriving at the border of Shiratorizawa soon,” he informs him. “If we push the horses a little more than usual then we should get there before sunset. Then there’s still a couple more days until we reach the Church of Prophets, but at least we can sleep in a real bed.”

                Kenma offers a noncommittal huff and turns to straighten a couple of his feathers with his fingers. Kuroo continues to shuffle things around for a moment before turning to face Kenma. Kenma lifts his head and watches him warily. He clears his throat and extends his arm, revealing a small wooden talisman.

                “Iwaizumi helped me make it,” he says to fill the silence when Kenma makes no move to take it from him. “I’m not really good at wood carving, so if I would have done it, then it wouldn’t be as effective.”

                “What is it?” Kenma asks while eyeing it. It looked to be a wooden figurine just a little smaller than his palm. He could see rich paint decorating it with a various words and symbols etched into the wood.

                “Oh, yeah. It’s a talisman that should help kind-of hide your horns and wings. Ya know, to make you appear more human and less Nephilim.”

                Kenma scrunches his nose at that and Kuroo coughs awkwardly.

                “Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with the way you look or who you are,” he clarifies. “It’s just that I figured you would be more comfortable when we arrived if everyone wasn’t staring at you. This way you don’t have to put yourself in the spotlight of unwanted attention.”

                Kenma considers it for a moment. He figured they would just try to sneak him in or something and wouldn’t even have the time to wander around. If they were giving him a little length on his invisible leash, then he would gladly pull it taut. He takes the wooden talisman from Kuroo and gives it a closer inspection. It fit comfortably in his hand and weighed very little. He turned it around a couple times, looking over the small details he made on it and the words covering it. He had seen few talismans in his lifetime, but the one he was currently holding was of high-quality. It was simple, yet covered all the bases needed and was imbued with a dense amount of energy. It must have taken a lot of meticulous work to properly craft it.

                “Well,” he says after he’s done appraising it, “how do I get it to work?”

                Kuroo grins and leans back to sit comfortably. “Oh, it’s working.”

                Kenma frowns. He could still see his wings wrapped around himself and it’s not like he felt his horns disappear either. He reaches up to check, and his fingers lightly graze the hard arches of his horns.

                “It’s not like it will make your wings or horns disappears or anything,” Kuroo says when he catches Kenma’s confusion. “It just hides them from anyone who isn’t holding the talisman. So, to me, I can’t see them.”

                Kenma had nothing to disprove his statement and he found that Kuroo would not benefit by lying to him. He would just have to take his word that he couldn’t see his wings or horns. He tosses it toward the pile of stuff next to him. Kuroo leans forward and blinks a couple times before smiling again.

                “And now they’re back again,” he states.

                “You must have used a lot of magic to make this trinket,” Kenma says absently. In the corner of his eyes he could see Kuroo flinch at his words. He turns to face him squarely and frowns. “What?”

                “Ah, it’s not magic,” Kuroo corrects, hands twisting in the hem of his loose white blouse as he talks.

                “Then how did you create it?” Kenma asks, motioning to the abandoned talisman.

                “The Gifts.”

                Kenma frowns even more. He didn’t know much of these _gifts_ they kept talking about. Again, in the back of his mind, the apprehension of his general lack of knowledge about the world he lived in flooded him with full force. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

                Kuroo sighs and moves his hand to run through his hair instead of fiddling with his shirt as he tried to figure out the best way to explain it to him. “Magic is… well, the Gifts aren’t magic per se. It’s power granted to the Church from above; spiritual energy we acquire and use in the name of the oath we make to our Gift.”

                “Then what’s magic?”

                “Something totally different,” he says after a while, breaking eye contact with Kenma in favor of fussing with something else.

                Kenma can see his reluctance to talk about the topic and lets it go. He was used to being ignored when he asked questions and Kuroo’s vague overview was more than anything he could have gleaned if he was still in that basement. For the time being he didn’t really care about the semantics of it. He was grateful for the talisman, no matter how it was created.

                “What happens when we reach Shiratorizawa?” he asks instead.

                Kuroo seems to perk up at the change in topic and throws him a sheepish smirk.

                “I don’t really know. We’re going to have to make the rules as we go.”

                

* * *

 

 

                His sword slashes through what would be the shoulder of the fog comprising the demon before him, fog slowly dissipating before it could gather to reform back into its original form. Bokuto grits his teeth and readjusts his grip on the hilt before pivoting on his left leg. This time he successfully targets the core of the demon, slashing it to reveal the glowing ball of red energy that powered those bastards. The demon attempts one last move and lunges at him with sharp claws, but he ducks. With the demon off balance from its attack, Akaashi thrusts the end of his spear into the middle of the ball of energy, shattering it, and properly eliminating the demon as it disappears with a low hiss and a swirl of fog.

                Bokuto grins up at him, but Akaashi only spares him a passing glance as he moves to counter another demon who was trying to rip through his abdomen. Behind them, Suga sends out a scroll to render another demon motionless for a split second. That split second is all Bokuto needs to slash and stab, a hiss and a swirl of fog and one more demon was gone.

                He leans out of the way of a sharp tail aimed at his throat and brings his hand up on the blunt edge of his sword to block a set of claws set on gouging out his eyes. He shifts his weight on his back leg and allows the demon to charge him, knocking it off balance and attacking it from behind. The motion of his blade cuts diagonally across its back, but it’s too shallow and doesn’t reveal enough of the weak spot to target it properly. The demon turns and lets out a feral screech as it jumps into the air to attack him.

                The demon collides with him with the full force of its weight. Sharp talon-like feet digging into his arm as he holds the demon at bay. It reaches out a clawed hand and Bokuto reels his head back. It gets a small cut on his cheek, but nothing as lethal as it intended. He spins to dislodge the demon off of him. It tumbles a couple of meters away from him and crouches on the ground as it hisses. He lowers his center of gravity in case it was planning on jumping on him again, but instead it propels itself off the ground with its hind legs.

                It must have learnt from the first time it tried to charge him head-on. This time, it lowers itself to the ground in the last minute, sliding pass Bokuto as he attempts to turn around and not allow the demon to be at his back. It might have successfully caught Bokuto off-guard, but it was powerless against a watchful Akaashi. Who just so happened to turn up as if waiting for the demon to make that exact move and stabbed his spear down into its belly. Immobilizing it with a foot placed on its hip and twisting his spear to crack open its abdomen and reveal the ball of red energy. Bokuto follows up with a quick stab to the core.

                “Let’s finish this up quickly,” Akaashi says as he wipes at a small trail of sweat on his brow.

                “The quicker we finish this the quicker we can get back home.”

                “Only one more,” Suga calls over.

                Bokuto nods and turns to face the last demon with Akaashi, weapons held at the ready. If they could capture the demon and gain some information from it then that would be ideal, but it was dangerous. Most of the time you gained more causalities when trying to capture one than when fighting them. He wouldn’t risk any of his friends or the unwilling townspeople who were dragged into this mess.

                “Come quietly or suffer the same fate as your comrades,” Bokuto warns the demon.

                The demon huffs and grins wickedly at them. “I will feast on your entrails and use them to decorate your precious nation as I watch it burn.”

                Bokuto frowns. That’s not very compromising, now is it?

                “One last chance.”

                The demon answers by lunging at them, but Akaashi quickly aims for its shoulder, knocking it off balance as Bokuto slashes into it, deep enough this time to shatter the core in one fluid motion. The demon disappears with a loud hissing snarl and then the mine is silent, save for their ragged breathing from the fight just moments before.

                Bokuto kneels, tip of his blade resting in the ground underneath him as he attempts to catch his breath. He hears Suga approaching them and then a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder.

                “We did well. Now all we have to do is get the villagers back.”

                Bokuto frowns. They would have to carry them back themselves, plus a still sleeping Hinata. Wow, that boy missed all the action. When he finally woke up, Bokuto knew he would be pissed that he missed all the fighting, but he played an important role in the mission.

                “We should stay to monitor the village for a couple days before we head back. To ensure that there is no demonic activity still lingering around and to treat the hosts of some of their post-possession symptoms,” Suga says.

                “I agree, and in the meantime, we can question the hosts to see if any information from the demons was able to be passed through them.” Bokuto stands and pushes his hair back. Normally spiked up hairstyle disrupted from the sweat and motion of the night.

                They all agree on their next plan of action and after some time of rest they haul the unconscious forms back to the village. They were grateful that the demons had used a wagon to kidnap Hinata. The villagers may wake up with a stiff back from being piled on top of each other, but at least they’d have control of their bodies again.

                It was a small price to pay and if the demons had initially built on already present distrust in the Church then Bokuto and them would need to do their best to admonish any fears. Part of their duties were to respect the reputation of the Church in whatever they do. Hunters were to be looked up to, those who put their lives on the line for the greater good and wished to protect the stability of the world around them.

                That’s what Bokuto believed in; the pure valor of the Hunters that he learnt about from nighttime tales told from an older brother. An older brother who wanted to become a Hunter, not just because his father and his father’s father was one, but because he wanted to embody that. He wanted to become the image of Justice for everyone, no matter their circumstances. He loved his younger brother and wished to protect him. It’s what an older brother does, Bokuto was always told, an older brother protects so the ones behind him can walk on a clear path without facing any of the troubles he had to endure.

                And it seemed like for a while that’s exactly what Bokuto did. He grew up listening to his older brother’s tales, dreams, and ambitions. He watched his back as it grew strong, shoulders broad as if he would carry the weight of the world on them alone. And maybe he planned to, but all Bokuto knew was that weight was too much for his shoulders to carry by himself.

                Even to his last breath his brother died believing that he was clearing the path for Bokuto. That his death might absolve his younger brother of the same fate and sins he had to carry with him after that fateful day. That with a single blade and a note with the words ‘ _I’m sorry’_ he could protect Bokuto from the grave and prevent him from ever feeling the pain that he suffered through.

                The dead do not speak, but Bokuto knew that if they could he would tell Bokuto to carry on in his place. He has already cleared the path for him, hasn’t he?

 

* * *

 

 

                The nation of Shiratorizawa, if Kenma had to sum all he had seen so far into one word, without a doubt it would be _overwhelming_. The people, the buildings, even the very streets were full of bristling life. Maroon and white decorated every surface; banners lining the rooftops, faces painted in extravagant masks, clothes stitched from high quality silks. Music played from performers at almost every corner, people gathered to listen or throw coins in appreciation. Food stalls lined the streets, the smell of rich delicacies wafted into the carriage.

                When he asked what was the reason for all of this, he was informed that there was no reason. That this was what Shiratorizawa was like almost every day of the year. The people here needed no reason to celebrate and fill their bellies with fine cuisine. The fact that they could alone was reason enough for them. The plague of Pestilence might not have reached them just yet, but they paid no mind to upcoming apocalypses or demonic activity brewing.

                When he asked if all the villages were like this, he was informed that more or less, this was the standard. It only got worse the closer to the Capital you got. The Capital where the Church was located was a festival in of itself. Kenma couldn’t picture it getting any worse than the numerous swan floats that they passed in the streets. Sometimes even real swans sat on the floats while human counterparts danced next to them in intricate swan costumes.

                “Oh, no,” Oikawa mumbled as he led the horses toward an inn. “Always a fun time in Shiratorizawa; at least we are in for some entertainment tonight.”

                Kuroo turned and moved closer to him, sticking his head out to survey the area. “What’s wrong?”

                Oikawa only laughed as he tilts his head forward. From where Kenma sat in the back of the carriage he wasn’t able to identify what he had been motioning towards. But from the strained look on Kuroo’s face as he turns from the perch to gather his things, Kenma can only assume that they won’t be getting the simple rest and relaxation that everyone was looking forward to.

                “It might be a good time to start using that talisman,” Kuroo informed him as he slung a bag over his shoulder. There’s noise outside as words are exchanged between some people and Kenma follows quickly after Kuroo, talisman in hand and wings tucked behind him.

                “How did you even find us?” Kenma can easily make out Oikawa’s nasally voice as he makes his way over to the front of the carriage. Though the question should have come off rude and annoyed, he sounds a bit amused at whoever he is talking to.

                “Easily enough, it’s not that hard to figure out where a wounded beast will try to take refuge.” This one is a new voice, masculine but mixed with something light and playful like a child after finding everyone during a game of hide and seek. Kenma feels his stomach tighten as he rounds the corner of the carriage.

                “Oi, what are you doing here?” Kuroo calls out to the new person.

                “Oh, Kuroo-kun, I’m just trying to welcome old friends,” he says.

                Kenma gets a brief glance at the newcomer from over Kuroo’s shoulder. The first thing he makes out is spiky bright hair, brighter than anything natural he has ever seen before. The newcomer seems to catch movement behind Kuroo, because his large eyes swivel to acknowledge Kenma. His eyes widen even more than before for a brief second and his mouth opens up into a too big grin as some sort of curiosity fills him.

                He moves to make a step forward, but a quick hand on his shoulder by Iwaizumi has him immobilized and only left to grin down at Kenma. Kenma doesn’t let the unsettling feeling in his gut deter him as he stops just a couple feet away from the rest of them.

                “What do we have here?” he grins, head tilting to the side and his eyes scan over Kenma. “I didn’t know that the Church of Apostles was getting a new mascot.”

                Oikawa huffs, but puts his hand on the guy’s shoulder to turn him around to face the inn. “We’re not; just shut your mouth and we’ll explain inside.”

                He lets himself be led into the inn, all the while continuing to chat aimlessly with them as if they were old friends. Kenma silently follows behind them, eyes never leaving the newcomer. The second he laid eyes on him, he couldn’t shake the weird sense of familiarity he seemed to give off. Not that Kenma had actually met him before, but something about him was familiar; natural almost. But nothing directly about him screamed natural. His hair was too bright of a red, his eyes too large with pupils too small, even his lanky build was upsetting.

                Kenma didn’t like him one bit.

                That didn’t seem to matter, because they were all led into a singular room with numerous beds. An extra one for the newcomer, Kenma couldn’t stop himself from noting. Not that they would need an extra one, Kenma wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room with all of them anyways. With the door closed behind them and Iwaizumi putting up wards around the room, Kenma went to go stand off to the side.

                The newcomer kept sending glances his way as if he was about to explode from the effort of not exploding.

                “Alright, I set the perimeter,” Iwaizumi informed them after his work was done.

                That seemed to be the only signal he needed, because the next second the newcomer was in front of Kenma with unnatural speed and leaving a strange aftertaste in the air. Up this close, Kenma could easily make out the dark red of his small pupils. Somewhere off to the side, someone curses underneath their breath.

                “Oh?” the man says. His eyes dart off to the side and he reaches for the talisman. Before Kenma is able to understand his goal, the talisman is already ripped from his grasp and a spark goes through him where they touched skin. “Oh.”

                The next instant the man is on the other side of the room again, another strange aftertaste is left in the air and Kenma unfurls his wings, claws extending and ready for the man to appear in front of him again.

                But the man pays him no mind, instead focusing on the talisman he now as in his hand. His head is cocked back to the side and he pauses to sneak a glance at the others in the room.

                “You guys always get the fun stuff, huh? I guess I should start off with an introduction?” He tosses the talisman on a bed and turns to grin at everyone. He moves to give a simple bow with one arm underneath his stomach as he bends. “Tendo Satori, at your service. Impromptu guide to the Capital and self-proclaimed face and idol of the Church of Prophets.”

                Kenma frowns and let’s his wings settle a bit behind him. No one looks like they might introduce themselves, and he figured that the introduction was more for him than anyone else in the room.

                “Kenma,” is all he states.

                “Yes, yes, but Kenma, _what_ are you?” He takes a deep inhale as he straightens up and holds it for a long while before exhaling it. Tendo brings his hand up to stir the air around him as if conducting an orchestra. “You have no place below nor above. Just what did you guys bring us this time?”

                Iwaizumi sighs, finally tired of his antics and goes to push him down onto the bed where he tossed the talisman. “Cut the crap, Tendo, you know why we’re here.”

                Tendo frowns, but throws a leg over his lap to cross it. He grabs onto his raised calf and rocks forward like a child eager for something sweet.

                “I’ve only been told that some people from the Church of Apostles were coming. From the wings and the horns, I can only guess that it isn’t the usual social call.”

                “No,” Kuroo says as he takes his own seat. With Tendo finally subdued for the moment, everyone in the room seems to release some of their tension, everyone except for Kenma who still eyes them all from where he stands. “But we’re not at liberty to disclose that information.”

                Tendo frowns and glances over at Kuroo. “Why not?”

                “Because we made an oath about not spilling any details to fellow Hunters or the general public,” Oikawa states, crossing his arms over his chest.

                Tendo doesn’t seem too disconcerted about that, instead he smiles as if he was expecting Oikawa to say that. “Well, good thing for you, I’m not a fellow Hunter nor the general public.”

                Oikawa frowns, but glances over at Iwaizumi for a second option. Iwaizumi glances between everyone before eventually shrugging.

                “Well, technically it wouldn’t be against our oath. But it’s a thin line.”

                “Fine,” Kuroo says. “What do you know about Nephilim?”

                Tendo’s eyes widen even further, and he might have jolted over back to Kenma if it wasn’t for Iwaizumi keeping a hand on his shoulder. He cocks his head to the side and scans over Kenma again as he’s processing new information.

                “No fucking way,” he finally spits out.

                Oikawa sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I take it you know something, then?”

                “Not much, only what the Church has been able to gather over the years. They keep most of the good stuff hidden away, but I can sniff out just about anything.”

                “Good, because we’re going to need to see what the Church already has,” Kuroo says.

                Tendo hums to himself as he scratches his chin. “The more I think about it, the more this is starting to make a lot more sense.”

                “What are you talking about?” Oikawa asks.

                Tendo frowns. “Lately the flow of natural energy in the ground has become disrupted. At first I thought it was nothing. Natural energy changes its course over time and tends to follow the shifting of tectonic plates, but there’s been no major earthquakes or rupturing volcanoes recently. Also, it’s too soon for the natural energy to start shifting again.”

                “What do you mean ‘again’? This has happened before?” Iwaizumi asked, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to come to terms with what he was hearing.

                “In our lifetime? Yeah, but the first time was when we were all in diapers,” Tendo says. “It felt a bit different than now, but even as a kid I could still sense how _alive_ the ground felt.”

                “How is it different?”

                Tendo shrugs. “Back then it was pretty muted, but now, it’s a bit more intense.” His glances over at Kuroo and grins to himself. “I’m sure if you were still practicing, Kuroo, you could feel it yourself.”

                Kuroo frowns and turns his head away from Tendo’s knowing grin.

                “Practicing what?” It’s the first time Kenma spoke since introducing himself and all eyes turn to regard him. Suddenly Kenma felt that maybe he shouldn’t have asked that, but Tendo was too eager to inform him despite the protests in the others’ eyes.

                “Magic,” Tendo sings. Kuroo practically flinches and the others shoot him a glare to get him to shut up. Finally, Kenma realizes that Tendo was almost accusing Kuroo of something every time he glanced in his direction.

                Kenma scrunches his nose and ignores everyone in the room but Tendo. Whenever he broached the subject they all looked as if he had physically wounded them, but he was getting more than eager responses from one strange red-head.

                “I thought you said you didn’t use magic? That you used some sort of _presents_?”

                “He _used_ to use magic, as in past-tense,” Tendo clarifies, but Kenma can’t really see the difference and how that explains why Tendo was shooting Kuroo accusatory glances at random times.

                “Again, what’s the difference?”

                Ever the helpful one, Tendo sits up straighter and holds up both hands. “Magic,” he states while motioning with his left hand, “most commonly, are powers ascribed to a person at birth through bloodline or by intense training that allows someone to be able to tap into the magical. It involves using the natural energy in the world around you. Humans who are born able to use magic and therefore can feel and sense natural energy are called witches, though there are different terms throughout history.”

                He motions with his right hand. “The Gifts are powers that one can achieve. You can be born completely useless, but if you go through the Church then you can use spiritual energy. You can’t get it on your own and you can’t be born with it. Although you can be born with a higher affinity for it. These two things are kind of opposites, so they cannot co-exist at the same time, within the same body.”

                He brings his two hands together in a loud clap and makes some explosion sound for dramatic effect. “Therefore, for one to exist, the other needs to disappear.”

                Kenma just frowns at him even more. Magic and natural energy, Gifts and spiritual energy; he was getting a headache with all the conditions and defining factors. So Kuroo can’t use magic anymore and that’s why he couldn’t feel some tectonic plates shaking?

                At least that explains why Kenma got a weird vibe from Tendo. He wasn’t using a Gift, he was using magic, something that a biological and subconscious part of Kenma understood as natural. Although he made natural seem unnatural. Maybe it was just his body reacting to experiencing it the first time. He had spent his whole life surrounded by these _Gifts_ and their _spiritual energy_ that it was taking some time for him to fully register this more natural and simple magic.

                “So, what does the change in natural energy mean?” Oikawa asks, eager to change the subject and alleviate some of the tension in the room. Tendo narrows his eyes at him, as if not happy at his attempt to get them all back on the important issue at hand.

                Tendo sighs. “I don’t know what it _means_ exactly, but it’s more of a reaction if anything.”

                “Reaction to what?” Iwaizumi asks.

                “Something too powerful. It’s like if you have a still river. Some small stones won’t make very big ripples, but if you throw a boulder in the middle of it, then you have more of an impact. Or if you’re using a couple small magnets and you suddenly throw in a super big one, all of the smaller ones would react to the bigger one. Too much power can disrupt the flow of natural energy and that’s what happened 17 years ago, during what’s known as the Calamity of Wrath.”

                Oikawa quickly glances over at Kenma who frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. It’s not like he had any say in what happened back then.

                Tendo catches the movement and gawks as he lets his imagination run wild. This time he actually points at Kenma and squeals. “Wait! You’re telling me, that _you_ are what caused the shifts in natural energy?”

                Kenma frowns and squirms underneath Tendo’s stare. “Nobody said that.”

                “Kenma didn’t do anything,” Kuroo clarifies.

                “It’s exactly as you heard it,” Oikawa says. “Wrath came up, caused havoc, and then disappeared again. The only thing that’s different is that there was some sort of romance with an angel that produced a Nephilim hybrid of the two.”

                His eyes don’t get any smaller and he continues to stare at Kenma with an astonished expression on. “I know you said that this has to deal with Nephilim, but I’m starting to not be able to comprehend any more facts at this point.”

                Iwaizumi sucks his teeth and stands. “I agree, we all have had too much information for one night and I’m sure everyone is tired from a day’s worth of traveling. A nice hot meal that we don’t have to hunt for once and some _sake_ will do us all some good. We can reconvene in the morning, but for now let’s get some rest.”

                There are muttered confirmations throughout the room and everyone moves make their way towards the dining hall on the first floor of the inn.

                “Hey.” Kenma turns around to face Kuroo making his way over to him, talisman in one hand while the other rubs the back of his neck. “I figured you would want this back. Also, you should think about eating with us, at least while we’re inside villages and stuff, since you won’t be able to go hunting here. You don’t have to be at the same table, but at least let us buy you a proper meal.”

                He takes the talisman from him and tucks into a fold in his clothes. He frowns down at the ground and stares at his dirty feet. He had left the sandals back in the carriage since he spent most of his time barefoot in the forests.

                “Fine,” he says after a while. He had no money to pay for his own food and knew from looking at the village earlier that there was no place for him to hunt or set up snares. Not unless he went far, but he still had those damn seals placed on him. “Let me just go get my sandals from the carriage.”

                Kuroo exhaled a relieved breath and if Kenma was a petty man then he would immediately take it back and turn him down. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll save you a seat at the table.”

                Kuroo turned to walk ahead of him and Kenma was left to frown at his back. Didn’t he mention not sitting at the same table as them? He sighed, he could rectify that after he got his sandals. For the time being he let Kuroo believe that he had won some minor game and went to go fetch his sandals.

_'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_

_And I'll fear no evil 'cause I'm blind_

_And I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul_

_But I know when I die my soul is damned_

_-Shawn James_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation soon and idk how much writing time I'll have, but feel free to add me on SnapChat @new_groovee and keep me motivated and remind me to get my ass together!

**Author's Note:**

> I know the structure of this AU may be a little confusing so here are some details to note:  
> Churches are devoted to the Seven Gifts, which Hunters-in-training pledge themselves to serve. Each Gift will have different focuses or qualities that define them, but all Gifts use the Fruit of Divinity as a power source. Each Fruit of Divinity also has certain qualities that influence the type of powers each individual can use. The Elders are elites in their Church who have mastered their Gift and serve as a head figure.  
> The Gifts are: Charity, Faith, Prudence, Fortitude, Knowledge, Justice, and Hope.  
> The Fruits are: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control.
> 
> The Seven Deadly Sins are by-products of human desire and want. They create other lower-class demons such as goblins or imps to do their bidding. They derive their powers from the Four Horsemen (Pestilence, War, Famine, Death) and use their powers to trick mankind to follow their own desires.  
> The Seven Deadly Sins are: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride.
> 
> If you're still confused, ask me!


End file.
